Alhambra
by vinnie2757
Summary: Cardverse. The King of Spades has just been crowned, and his Queen fished out of the ocean. The Kingdom is happy. Safe. But that security is soon threatened by a power far beyond that of the old Clocks and the Fates.
1. Spades

**Title: **Alhambra

**Author: **Vinnie2757

**Character(s): **everyone

**Pairing(s): **USUK, with others being revealed as they go.

**Genre: **cardverse AU, romance, (misplaced) humour, adventure. Some supernatural horror in later chapters.

**Rating: **T

**Warning(s): **language, violence, sexual situations. Also; pirates.

**Summary: **The King of Spades has just been crowned, and his Queen fished out of the ocean. The Kingdom is happy. Safe. But that security is soon threatened by a power far beyond that of the old Clocks and the Fates.

**A/N: **Rewritten as of 12/jan/13!

**Chapter One: Spades**

_Alhambra (n): A version of solitaire played with a king and an ace serving as foundations, built up by suit._

_Spades (n): A trick-taking card game that can be played with a partnership or as a single "cut-throat". A descendant of Whist, the Spades suit is always the trump._

* * *

In 1194, the Solitaire War devastated the Four Kingdoms, ripping the monarchies to shreds and destroying economies that would take over a century to repair. The damage might not have been so severe had the Queens not been among the preliminary casualties. Even several generations later, no historian, gossip or courtier could say who dealt the first blow, nor which Queen was the first to fall, but the fact remained that without their Queens, the Kings had prolonged the war, driven only by the insanity which destroyed all unpaired minds.

A Pair was a Pair, and a King could not rule without a Queen beside him. Insanity had proven time and time again that it was perfectly capable of ripping at the very core of a King's being if deprived of his Queen.

After the Solitaire War had been called to a halt, all Kings and Queens dead, with the Aces ruling in their stead, an undesirable circumstance at best, the Jacks convened in the Kingdom of Hearts to discuss a treaty and draw up conventions of war that would be upheld for the rest of eternity.

The Queens were not to be attacked under any circumstances. Should one nation attack another's Queen, the remaining two nations would declare war. Queens, as a general law, could rule without their Kings, though they would need the firm hand of their Jacks to keep them focused. It was generally considered that Queens were insane to begin with, and had no need to lose their Pair before falling into madness.

Alfred Franklin Jones had been found by his predecessor in 1740 at age five. It had been a chance discovery as far as Alfred was concerned, but the King had taken it as an omen – not necessarily bad, he would say as he played a game of chess with the young heir early in the evening, but certainly a strong one – and adopted him straight away. It was his eyes, he'd say, and rub a thumb across Alfred's cheekbone, affectionate and fatherly in that distant way of his. They were the eyes of a Spades King.

_But what if you're wrong_?

Alfred had looked at his eyes once, and tried to see what was so Kingly about them. They were blue and kind of unfocused. Round and young and with thick eyelashes. They were king of girly eyes, really, but he had assurances from the Queen that they'd look dashing once he grew into them. As he got older, he realised that they were perhaps a shade too bright to be entirely natural, and once he got the corrective lenses he perhaps should have gotten a few years prior, they grew even brighter, to the point of creating light, rather than just reflecting it.

(On the day of Alfred's coronation, his pupils changed to the shape of a Spade, the way all Cards pupils did. It was the mark of a Card, and he knew, even as he adjusted to the sudden change in the shape, that he would never be able to doubt his legitimacy to the throne again.)

Being King had never really been something that Alfred aspired to be. A knight maybe, saving damsels and keeping the peace, a paragon of chivalry and swordsmanship, but not a King, and certainly not the King of Spades. But King he was to be, and there was as much use protesting it as there was trying to fly without the aid of a machine. Within a year of being adopted by the then-King and Queen, he had settled into his classes and his training, learnt to stand straight and not to address other courtiers as though they were the best of friends.

(That was a lesson that didn't really stick, admittedly, as Alfred was a friendly sort of boy, and made companions out of even the oldest of his predecessor's dignitaries. The friends he made in those early years were friends that would stay with him for the rest of his life, even if they were not physically there to keep him company.)

From the Queen, Alfred was taught poise and manners, carefully ironing out the creases in his accent and tightening the line of his shoulders until he looked every bit a King of Spades. Though at first uncomfortable, the standard of dress required of him soon became second nature, and tugging his clothes straight became an unconscious action rather than a tug from the Queen when he was least expecting it. Within years of his adoption into the court, there was little to nothing left of the young country boy he'd been.

Oh, he was indulged in his fancies, allowed to roam the fields and hide in the gardens, provided he kept his contingent of guards with him at all times. He gave them the slip often enough, but they were rather too good at their jobs and were quick to pick up his trail again. But as his lessons became more and more important, as his predecessor's death came closer and closer, so his flights of fancy fell into the back of his mind. When he was being taught how to run a kingdom with tactics and swordsmanship and hours upon hours of lectures about history and politics and the other Kingdoms, there was little time left for frivolity.

The only upside was that there was no mathematics.

His lessons, of course, were not just to help him to become a better King. They were to help him become a better man, too. Not long after his thirteenth birthday, the King's physician took him to one side and spent a day talking him through several things that sounded entirely too disgusting to contemplate.

_I'll fall in love with whoever I fall in love with, thank you very much. When I need help with that, I'll come find you. Until then, don't keep going on about it; that's really creepy._

As he got older and free time became something more of a luxury, he found himself taking refuge into a dusty, quiet corner of the library, curled in a pile of blankets, hidden behind a carefully-arranged stack of books, either drowsing or reading old fairy tales, stories he could hear in his mother's voice. Once or twice, he tried his hand at practicing the piano in the music room, but barely managed to play simple scales before deciding that his were not a pianist's hands. During warmer months, he would take to the practice field, practice his swordsmanship until he was soaked through with sweat, until every muscle ached and he was covered in nicks and bruises, aching and burning with exhaustion.

By the time he was to take the throne, he had already bested the House of Spades champions, and had bested one of the champions of the House of Hearts too. He had also been responsible for several serious injuries of his guard, but that was another matter, and not really his fault.

When he was sixteen, the King introduced Alfred to the pirates. They were a constant of all of the Four Kingdoms, and it was only appropriate that Alfred understood best how to deal with them. The King had set up a barter system, he explained as they stood on the pier and looked out over the sea. Their guards stood ready, but there were no boats in sight. He would leave the pirates be, not try to arrest them or fight with them as long as they conducted their thievery and murder elsewhere. If they let the Kingdom of Spades be, he would be willing to trade with them. It was a system that worked out well with the older pirates, though some of the newer vessels seemed a little unaware of what betrayal of that trust meant. Alfred thought it was a little too far on the side of injustice for his liking, letting murderers and thieves roam free as long as they left the Kingdom of Spades alone, putting more pressure on the other Kingdoms, but later, he would find that of all the choices presented to him, bartering with the pirates was the safest.

Having a Queen familiar with them also helped, he'd find.

When Alfred reached eighteen turns, the King died. Whether this was coincidence or fate, Alfred never found out. After the traditional week of mourning, the crown was placed upon his head and he was coroneted, the one-hundred-and-eighteenth King of Spades. Not the youngest by any means, but young enough that all the preparation in the world left him ill-equipped. He vowed to do his best, but even as he raised his chin and enunciated each word carefully, spoke to his Kingdom for the first time, his stomach churned, ears ringing.

He was far too aware that he was going to make a mistake. His prayers that night were the first for many years, but they went to whatever God existed, and begged that the mistake he made would not be damning to his people. He meant them no harm and wanted no harm to come upon them.

_I will do whatever it takes to repair any damage I make, but I beg you that my people are safe._

A week after his coronation – the first few days having been spent on his knees in front of the toilet bowl – Yao came to drag him from his chambers.

'I don't believe I have offered you congratulations on being coroneted, My King,' the Jack said as they walked through the corridors and down into the dungeons. 'It is good to see you on the throne, and on your feet too.'

Alfred rolled his eyes. 'I ate too much.'

'You didn't eat enough,' Yao corrected, and turned a sharp corner.

In one of the cells, someone was whistling, but the Jack ignored it and led his King to the end of the row. The dungeons were a dank, dark place, little natural light filtering in through the glassless windows barely four inches tall at the very top of the walls. Alfred paused for a moment, and stared up at those windows; if there was heavy rainfall, the dungeons would flood. Most of the cells were empty, which was good, Alfred thought. He intended to keep the cells empty; not through executions, no, that wasn't in him. Nor through lenience; crimes were crimes no matter what and must be punished. But he hoped that he could make the crime rate low, keep the people out of prison and with their friends and family where they belonged. He hoped he could keep his people happy.

'My King?'

'Yes, coming.' He looked away and lengthened his stride to catch up to the Jack.

Every cell that Alfred passed was empty, door unlocked and unused for some time. All except the last. There was a huddle of dark cloth in one corner, chains attached to the wall, shackles around a pair of boots. Messy hair and the glint of gold catching on the sunlight filtering over Alfred's shoulders. It took a moment to find the body in those clothes, but find it he did, and then confusion settled. The man appeared to be asleep, leaning back against the wall with his arms folded and head lowered, but Alfred wasn't sure of that.

'Yao?' he asked, looking across at his Jack with a raised eyebrow.

Only one sort of person in the world would have epaulets and be in the dungeons.

When the man looked up, it was with a dark little smirk curling his lip. His eyes were glowing, a very familiar glow, one Alfred saw every time he caught sight of his reflection. The man looked between his two visitors with amusement, snide and black though it was, curling his mouth into a sneer, canines bared and eyes lidded. He didn't say a word and didn't take his eyes off them.

'My King,' Yao said, and gestured. 'Meet Arthur Kirkland. The Queen of Spades.'

* * *

Arthur was sharp. Sharp of body and of mind both, Alfred studied him carefully for the next few hours, watching the way he moved, from his stride to the clench of his fingers to the way his hair flopped as he threw himself into a chair.

His eyes were the sharpest part of him, except for perhaps his tongue, or maybe his elbows. A limey sort of green, with the trademark Spades pupils, they never once met Alfred's, and yet they never seemed to leave them. Taking in everything around him, Arthur gave off the impression of being a very observant type. Alfred wondered if he was planning on escaping. It seemed likely, in a way. Why, after all, would a pirate want to be in the Spades Palace when he clearly willed the opposite? There was no doubt, as Alfred watched his Queen stretching out aching limbs, that if he was given even a quarter of a chance, Arthur would bolt.

For all the time Arthur spent at sea, he was remarkably well-built. Though, Alfred supposed, watching the pull of his shirt as the Queen stretched his arms out, it would be all the exercise from pirating. All the raising-the-sails and sword-fighting and that, it was bound to put some muscle on you. But he hadn't been eating right, that was for sure. He'd never seen someone have such a good muscle structure as Arthur did and yet be so skinny at the same time. It didn't seem real. Then again, Alfred had a very sheltered upbringing, in comparison to the education he might have received had his future lain still in the lower town. He had eaten well and grown well, and that the two might not go as hand-in-hand as he had personally experienced seemed a little beyond him.

With the current sharpness to his features; starved cheekbones and protruding joints, he was about as attractive as desperation, but with a healthier diet, with some meat and bread, he could become rather handsome.

Well. If he did something about those eyebrows of his, anyway.

'Stop starin',' Arthur groused, and for a second, Alfred was sure his gaze had finally, _finally_ met his own, but then the shorter man was paying attention to other things and the King couldn't be sure he'd even seen it.

'I'm not staring.'

'Aye. You are.'

Alfred pouted, but it either didn't work on a seasoned pirate, or said pirate failed to see it, because it elicited no reaction, and Arthur's attention shifted again, this time turning, with some interest, to his nails.

They were pretty filthy nails.

Most of him was pretty filthy.

'You should take a bath.'

Arthur's eyes rolled heavenward.

'Could you do me a favour?' When Alfred asked what, Arthur told him, 'Please shut up.'

Alfred stared at him then, lowering his chin but raising his eyebrow, and it gave him a look far too impertinent for Arthur's tastes. Whether Alfred knew what the droll look he received in response was for, Arthur didn't know. Nor, particularly, did he find it in him to care. All he wanted, really, was some peace and quiet, to just.

To just.

Well, to just _get over it_.

He was Queen of Spades. He'd known it for as long as he could remember – before then, even – and there was precisely _jack shit_ he could do about it.

Oh, woe! The Queen of Spades was familiar with the language of the sea and her sailors!

Of course he was, he was a pirate. It came with the job. Or the hobby, at least, because it wasn't as if piracy paid regularly and uniformly. You got what you could steal and not a penny more.

It doesn't occur to Arthur that he's saying most of this out loud, but not enough to make any logical sense. Rambling about the sea, Alfred will learn, and rambling about the prejudices inherent in a system bound to land, are very much Arthur's forte, and he will talk for hours about both topics until he has neither breath nor energy to continue.

It's a shame that Alfred will, for the most part, enjoy being talked to about Arthur's life.

Being friends, at the least, will make ruling the Kingdom easier.

Probably.

(She'd said, from the moment they met, that his destiny lay in the hands of another and that his heart could never so truly be hers. He'd hurried to disagree, of course, but she was right. Looking at the King sitting opposite him across a table four feet wide and twenty long, which was, he'd learnt, one of the smaller dining tables, in a more private room for the Cards to take their meals, he could see it. It had, and would always remain, inevitable.)

''Scuse us,' Arthur grunted, and shoved away from the table.

Alfred stared at him, confused, but didn't follow. Good. It wasn't as though Arthur wanted his – his – _husband_ to see him vomit into a toilet bowl.

The plumbing of Spades Palace would forever confuse him, and it took three attempts before Arthur learnt how to actually flush the toilet. It was obvious, once he'd worked it out, and it embarrassed him that it took those three attempts.

He suspected, as he washed his hands and rinsed his mouth out, that that was precisely why he was grateful for having been alone. Turning to leave, he set eyes on the bath, and a magnificent thing it was too.

It couldn't hurt, could it? Surely, as Queen (or at least, the Queen-to-be) he was entitled to take a bath as he chose? And the smell of the sea so heavily ingrained into his skin, salt in every crease and pore, soaked into all the gaping scars like new flesh, it hurt, reminded him of all those years he had spent out there, and all the years he would lose.

Best to get rid of it before he longed too badly for it that he thought to seek its cold embrace out once more.

The need to be breathing sea air aside, the dungeons did smell rather rancid, and he'd always prided himself on keeping a healthy, clean body. Pirates had such a _reputation_ and he'd sought to somehow, somewhat ineffectually, to change that. Men without wives were not wont to bathe themselves with any sense of regularity, so he'd given up trying to make his crew follow his example fairly quickly. Not much pride could be found in having streaks of mud, dust and things only the Devil himself could possibly identify all over his clothes and skin, of course, and he'd be damned before he let himself remain in this state if he could rectify it.

'Oh, face it, Kirkland,' he huffed as he went to the door to find a maid to help him with filling the tub, having no clue as to how the water worked nor any clothes to wear post-scrub. 'You're a nancy boy who likes baths like any woman.'

Eventually, he tracked down a maid who blushed and fumbled with the sheets of the bed she was making (his bed, he learnt later), and nodded enough that Arthur felt inclined to raise his eyebrows in disbelief.

'You're goin' t' lose your hair if you keep that up,' he told her, and lingered by the door as she hurriedly reset her very practical, and rather fetching pleat before fetching him some clean clothes from a dresser at the far side of the room.

'I'm sorry,' she said as she led him back down the corridor towards the bathroom. 'We all, um. We thought.'

'That I was goin' t' be a woman?'

She nodded, ears and cheeks red.

'I'm sorry,' she repeated, and Arthur snorted.

'Nowt t' apologise for,' he said, and ruffled his hair. More dust than necessary fell out of it and coated his shoulders. 'It's understandable.'

He watched the maid draw his bath, made careful note of which salts she used, and which soaps and towels she laid out, and more importantly, where she obtained them from. That was more important than anything. He'd use what he liked, thank you, but that would be difficult if he didn't know where to get it from.

When the bath was drawn and the maid had left with Arthur's thanks, he stripped off, folded his clothes and set them to one side and climbed into the bath.

* * *

Alfred was bored. He'd grown bored a long time ago, but Yao made him at least pretend to be patient. After all, Arthur had just been ripped from an old life, been in the dungeons (though Alfred wasn't entirely sure why), and been forced into what amounted to servitude. He deserved some time alone. Eventually, though, the Jack grew tired of Alfred's endless pacing and nail-biting and other such tics, and sent him off to go and find him.

_He's your Queen, and therefore your responsibility. It's not as though you won't see him naked at a later date, anyway, stop your fussing._

He caught a maid in one of the corridors and she told him that the last she'd seen of him, the Queen had been in the bath in the west wing, near their chambers. She said that he'd been in there for a while, but he'd been looking tired, perhaps he'd fallen asleep. Alfred thanked her and headed towards the appropriate bathroom. Once there, he rapped on the door, but received no reply.

'Arthur, are you in there?'

He cracked the door open a little and found that yes, the pirate was in there, and yes, he'd fallen asleep in the bath. Alfred stood there for a moment watching him before slipping inside and shutting the door to preserve the warmth.

Alfred hadn't been wrong in saying that Arthur needed feeding up. He was much too slender, all angles and bones, rough patches at his joints and old injuries bruising otherwise pale skin. Reclined in the tub the way he was, arms hooked over the sides and head back, it stretched him too thin; ribs and throat and the dark shadow of hair under his arms. He needed a better shave than whatever he'd been given in the dungeons – Alfred wasn't stupid enough to think they hadn't cleaned Arthur up before they'd been introduced – the shadows and rough patches on his jaw and the outside of his throat didn't fit him.

He lingered a little out of arm's reach, looking at the way Arthur's hair was curling at the nape of his neck, the gentle rise and fall of his chest, the sheer length of his arms, spindly but strong, undeniably strong. Arthur was a touch on the short side of average, and Alfred the same on the taller end, putting almost a head between them. But what Arthur didn't have in height, he had in length, all long lines that seemed disproportionate to his body, and yet fitting, somehow.

(Alfred thought back to those lessons on the thirteenth turn of his Clock, and his lip curled.)

It was funny but Alfred found that he didn't really want to wake him, content in the quiet. Rest would go a long way to making a man stronger, and he didn't want to interrupt that. Still, cold water would do Arthur no favours, so he crept across the tiles to carefully touch the pirate's wrist.

He hadn't even touched him before Arthur slurred, 'Leave it,' at him.

'The bath's cold,' Alfred told him. 'You'll catch a chill.'

''M a pirate,' Arthur reminded him as though that meant anything, still groggy, but he sat a little straighter anyway. The water sloshed as he brought bony knees up and a resounding crack made the hair on the back of Alfred's neck stand on end when Arthur stretched his own.

'Crick?' Alfred asked, and grinned when Arthur grumbled under his breath, rubbing at the mark the edge of the tub had left on his skin. 'Serves you right.'

'Sod off,' Arthur groused. ''S been a rough week. Nice bath like this, 's not my fault.'

'Best make sure the maids know to wake you then!' Alfred quipped, slipping out of reach before Arthur thought to hit him. 'Go to sleep in a bed here and you won't wake up for a day! That means they're really comfortable, by the way – a lot more than the bath.'

'I got that, ta,' Arthur replied, finally opening his eyes to shoot the King a droll look, sleepy-eyed with one brow raised and lips parted. Terribly chapped lips, to be sure, and Alfred wondered if it was the sea air or biting. 'Was there any particular reason y' came in 'ere, or was it jus' t' ogle?'

His eyes snap away from his Queen's lips.

'I'm not ogling.' But he said it too fast, and Arthur snorted with laughter, shifted his grip on the tub, and made to haul himself out of the bath. 'Hey! Have some decency!'

As it turned out, decency had nothing to do with it. Arthur's legs, having been in cold water for upwards of an hour, had gone to sleep and refused to carry his weight, leading him to flop back into the bath and splash water over the lip of the tub. Flushing with embarrassment, the pirate cursed up a storm that befitted his naval history, and ordered Alfred out of the bathroom so he could embarrass himself in private.

Alfred waited patiently outside of the door, where Arthur eventually emerged wearing close-fitting breeches with long boots and a loose shirt held close to his body with trouser braces of a brilliant shade of blue – the Spades blue. Rolling his shoulders, and then his eyes, Arthur strolled off down the corridor, completely ignoring Alfred, who, wrinkling his nose, hurried off after him.

'Wasn't there a waistcoat?' Alfred asked, falling into step beside the shorter man, nose still wrinkled in distaste at the indecency of Arthur's dress. The curls at the back of his neck were still dripping, and it was making his shirt cling.

'Aye. Not a fan of 'em.'

'But they're a part of your state robes!'

Arthur didn't seem to be fazed at all.

'Aye,' he agreed, amiable and ambling along as though he had not a care in the world, 'But I'm not in 'em now, am I?'

'Well, no.'

'There y' are, then. Now, where're the doors, I want to go out.'

Out, Alfred learnt, meant that Arthur very much desired to be on his own, and there was nothing anyone could say or do to stop him. Giving Alfred the slip was harder than the guards, because Alfred was lighter than they were, with their armour and their shields, but Arthur was lighter still, and weighing so little that you could step over the underbrush without disturbing it certainly made things easier to escape the blundering fool masquerading as King of Spades.

God forbid they should ever have to go on a _hunt_. Alfred would scare the game from a mile away.

(It would be the first thing the King of Diamonds suggested, a hunt amongst Kings. Arthur would laugh at him until he was forced to excuse himself to choking on his tea.)

There was a lake, far out in the gardens, where garden bordered wilderness, and Arthur hadn't been in Spades for so long that he'd almost forgotten where the boundaries lay. If Alfred had the brains, he'd realise that he could simply follow the edge of the lake and eventually come across him, but for now Arthur had abandoned him so far back in the woodland that he could only hear the ebb of the water as the fish moved beneath its surface and the occasional rustle of something in the trees behind him.

Oh, but he missed the sea so much already, missed the tang of salt in the air. Here, all there was to smell was dew and peat, and it was much too sweet in comparison. It was a pleasant enough smell, tinged with lily and lavender, but Arthur was a very bitter man who adored very bitter smells, and the pleasantness of flowers and nature made him sick to his stomach.

(The sickness did not include the memories.)

The lake had a little pier built out from it, rotting from lack of use over a dozen years, and Arthur made a note, as he climbed up onto it and felt each board creak and moan under his feet, to get it replaced. Maybe they could get a little boat down here, the lake was big enough for a little rowboat, a two-man thing, because undoubtedly Alfred would insist upon accompanying him. That would make him happy.

The boat, not having Alfred at his side all the time.

He was still standing on that pier three hours later when Alfred eventually found him again.

'Arthur!' he huffed from the shoreline, and the called man didn't need to turn to see his King hesitating at the shoreline. 'Is that safe?'

'No more dangerous than getting out of bed in the morning, I'm sure.'

But the boards had begun creaking more and more with every shift of his weight, so Arthur reluctantly turned and stepped gingerly back onto mostly-dry land. The moss squelched underfoot and made Arthur wrinkle his nose, curl his toes inside his boots.

'Yao was looking for you,' Alfred said, still looking suspiciously at the pier. 'He wanted to get down to business. Run over your duties with you, that sort of thing.'

'I'm sure he was,' Arthur hummed. 'I assume you gave up looking for me, and went back?'

'No,' Alfred hummed in response, fiddling with the button of his coat sleeve. 'He sent a runner down to find me.'

'Oh.'

As they were walking back to the palace, Alfred said, 'You really like water, don't you?'

'Born on it. Raised on it. Planned to die on it. Almost did.'

More than once, admittedly, but Alfred was green enough.

'I don't like water,' the boy said, as though Arthur cared. 'It's sad.'

'Sad? How so?'

Alfred kicked at a stone. 'Because it's – it's hard to explain.'

'Try.'

There was silence for a while as Alfred thought it over and then he eventually explained, in a hesitating, heavily punctuated ramble, that it was because the sea was ever changing, and people who left to go to the sea rarely came back, or did so but were so very different that he, Alfred, could hardly recognise them. He went on to explain that too many people died at sea, because she was capricious and cruel, and as much as he might want to know what was out there, it scared him. He fancied he could hear the wails of the sea-dead when the wind howled at night.

It made Arthur smile, but not respond.

How could he respond to that?

'I know it's silly,' Alfred said then, laughing a little, red in the ears. 'Only people with their Clocks stopped can hear the dead.'

Arthur still didn't reply, focused on the mud-streaked toes of his boots, as though they were the most interesting thing he had ever seen.

'You're not saying much.'

'Didn't think I needed to.'

'Oh, okay. You can talk whenever you _want_ to. _Need_ doesn't come into it. You're Queen; you can do what you want.'

Arthur smiled. 'I can go back to the sea? No, I thought not.'

Alfred mused on that for a while before noting that sometimes Arthur enunciated all of his words correctly and other times didn't.

'Bad habit.'

'It'll break,' Alfred assured him. 'We have an etiquette coach in the palace; he has to keep giving me enunciation lessons. I'm sure he'll get you talking proper soon.'

'Talking proper,' Arthur repeated, the bitterness of his smile turning to genuine amusement.

Alfred nudged him with an elbow and told him to shut up. Arthur just kept on smiling.

* * *

'Arthur?'

The Queen had found the library, retreated up there still in his shirt sleeves and muddy boots, and was now sitting in a comfortable armchair with a stack of books next to him. Yao was not entirely certain, as he paced down the aisle to him, that his Queen could even read at that level, let alone intend to do so. He knew Arthur was fond of books, but piracy didn't leave much time for reading.

'There are threats of assassinations,' the Jack said, and Arthur snorted.

'There are always threats. I suppose you intend to ask me to watch Alfred's back any time I'm in a position to do so?'

'And to watch your own besides,' Yao agreed. 'I mean it,' he huffed, when Arthur laughed. 'The boy's only been on the throne a week, and the other Houses are coming to congratulate him and start signing agreements in two days. There are people out there who are willing to pay to see him and the other Suits dead.'

'Then make sure it doesn't happen. You have eyes and ears all over the kingdom. This country is riddled with spies. Put them to work for once.'

'You have the best eyes and ears in the Kingdom, Arthur. You see and hear things no one else does.'

The book in Arthur's hands snapped shut at Yao's tone, and his eyes glared at it before turning upwards to look at the Jack.

'And why is that, do you think? My eyes and ears are none of your business.' He scoffed. 'Unless you're willing to pay to make them so.'

'You would see your own King dead?' Yao snapped, and Arthur leapt to his feet, throwing the book to the ground with a resonant slap of leather on wood.

'I would see the King _burn_,' he snarled. 'I did not ask for this, and I have wasted my life waiting for him. I lost _everything_.'

'You had nothing! Fate swore you to him from the very beginning, and she knew that. You lost nothing, because you _had_ nothing.'

Yao knew, as the words fell between them and silence settled in their wake, that he had pushed too far. Though he had not seen Arthur since Alfred was a young boy, he remembered that anger, that silent rage, a tremor in his fingertips and a certain tightness in his jaw that gave him the darkest glare ever turned upon a member of the Spades Suit in centuries. Oh yes, Yao knew that anger, and made sure to step out of the way as Arthur stomped past.

There was no sense in following him, it would only get him a broken nose, so he let the Queen go and bent to pick up the book Arthur had thrown to the floor. As he straightened, dusting off the binding, he thought he heard someone tutting at him. It made something in his heart hurt, something he hadn't felt for a millennia and a half.

'Personal feelings can't interfere with his duties,' Yao murmured to that feeling, setting the book at the top of the pile by the chair, smoothing his hand over it. 'He knows that.'

There was no indication of acknowledgement from the feeling, so Yao let it be, turned and left the library, heading to Alfred's study to warn him to stay out Arthur's way a while so he could calm down in peace.

* * *

Arthur had never, in all his years upon the earth, liked having his flaws pointed out to him. Oh, he knew he had them, of course, because every man has his vice and a crack in his reflection.

He was, and always had been, a spider's web of cracks, a thousand pieces held together only by the frame of his skin and clothes. But there were scars in his skin, and tears in his clothes, rips in the seams and he was leaking out, bleeding and dying and slipping further and further into.

Into.

To be honest, he wasn't sure. Very few people had their Clocks stop at all, let alone live long enough to document the experience. The very thought of an unending existence, of never dying naturally, of never aging. It terrified people.

And yet Arthur survived, he lived and breathed and walked the earth and sailed the seas. Living was a term used only clinically; he didn't live. He survived. There was no joy in his life any more, not light or love or other such whimsical concept. He was an old man in an old world.

That had never been clearer than it had today. The world did not need him as much as Fate seemed to believe it did. Standing on the balcony of his chambers and watching the staff back-and-forthing as they readied the palace for sleep, it had never been more obvious.

He was a superfluous character, unnecessary and unneeded, and his role was purely, if the stories were to be believed, to stay Alfred's hand and keep it steady. To keep his mind intact. That was it. His sole purpose.

They said that the Queens were mad, that their insanity passed to their Kings should they fall to sickness, or to battle, or to any other cause, and he supposed there was some truth in the rumour. He was old enough now to recognise the signs of insanity that corded his fractured reflection. But that opened a whole other basket of cats, and he had no desire to examine himself further, so he turned away from the gardens, wild and untamed, wretched in their beauty, and to his turned-down bed.

Smiling, a little bitter, a little hurt, he stripped out of his clothes, folded them neatly and set them on a chair in the corner, and climbed in. It was too big for him alone, too big for just one man. It was a bed designed for two people, for a man and his wife, and his hand stretched across the empty space on the other side, lacking creases and folds where a body might lie, and fancied he could feel warmth under his fingertips.

**++End Chapter++**

**A/N: **Hey guess who's back! I felt the need to rewrite it to get a better feel for the story and to also incorporate later plot elements that need to be established earlier.

I have no idea how soon I'll be able to update because I have so much work to do you don't even know, but until then, have fun!

**++Vince++**


	2. Hearts

**For this Chapter:**

**Character(s): **England, America, China, Germany/Italy, Japan

**Rating: **T

**Warning(s): **language

**Summary: **The Suit of Hearts arrives, and Arthur continues to pay attention.

**A/N: **If you're here for the update, I rewrote chapter one! If you're here because you're new, hello! Enjoy, my lovelies~!

**Chapter Two: Hearts**

_Hearts (n): An evasion-type trick-taking game for 3-6 players, in which they try to avoid winning penalty cards. There is no trump; the highest card of the suit at the end of each round wins the trick, but the Queen of Spades awards the biggest penalty of thirteen points._

* * *

A maid came to wake Arthur that morning, and he supposed there had been truth in Alfred's claims about the bed; he'd always been a light sleeper, yet she'd managed to enter the room and touch his shoulder without him waking. Reluctant to rise, but accepting that he needed to, he pulled his arm from the spot it had rested in, warmed only by the sunlight coming through the glass of the balcony doors, drew it back into himself and straightened his legs, rolling onto his back.

Even now, after all these years, he slept as though sharing his bed.

'Wha's the weather like?' he slurred, gravel catching on his tongue, cutting into his lips.

The maid flushed, busied herself with laying out clothes at the foot of the bed; breeches, a tighter shirt than the one he'd worn yesterday, braces and stockings and necktie, a waistcoat, a jacket that would undoubtedly reach his knees. She went to the balcony to look at the sky as she did so, carrying Arthur's braces in hand, and he shoved up onto his elbows, taking the pillows with him to rest against the headboard.

'It looks to be a fine day,' she told him. 'There are some dark clouds on the horizon though; I hope it doesn't rain on Hearts.'

'Hearts,' Arthur repeated, and pulled the blankets a little higher, reaching out to take the necktie. Really, he thought, whose idea was that. 'They're 'ere to sign treaties, right?'

'Yes,' she replied, adjusted her cap and curtsied. 'There will be a bath ready for you in a few moments, if you'd like.'

'That'd be grand,' he murmured, still looking at the necktie.

Hearts. That meant Diamonds and Clubs would be coming too, and that meant formal wear.

He doubted that these were his state robes; there was no fur collar or ridiculous iconography of his House emblazoned on it, but they were certainly smarter than the simple breeches and shirt he'd been given.

He'd looked like a stable-hand then. Now he was expected to play the role of Queen.

It honestly didn't surprise him, as he lay in the bath and studied one of the many toes he'd broken after dropping anchor, sail or sword on it, that someone came bursting in to do something about his hair.

And eyebrows.

And physical appearance in general.

He didn't even have the energy to complain, he just huffed a breath out through his nose and curled his lip.

'Can I at least 'ave breakfast 'fore you start makin' me look like the woman everyone wants me t' be?' he asked, and his – he didn't want to say _stylist_, because royalty was not a celebrity. He wasn't an actor on the stage, he didn't need to be powdered and primped, but he was certainly going to be in the public eye and maybe stylist was the only word that fit.

Well, whoever they were, the stupid bastard just laughed at him, as though he thought Arthur to be a jester, full of jokes and japery.

Arthur's scowl deepened and he resigned himself to a miserable fate.

An hour or so later, his hair trimmed back and face pink from how raw it had been scrubbed, he was finally allowed to dress, rather than sitting around wrapped in a towel. A maid came in as he was doing his breeches up, and Arthur decided, in those first few seconds, standing half-naked with his breeches only partially fastened, that he rather liked her.

All of the maids so far, though doing their job with a degree of sensibility that he could be proud of, if he tried, had been terrified of him. He supposed this was fair; he had a reputation, after all, and the duelling scar ripping across his cheek and the corner of his mouth did leave something of a sour taste in people's impressions of him.

But this woman, oh, she was a delight. Instead of blushing, or scurrying out, just strode on in, making some quip or another about keeping his private parts out of sight lest he lose them to a whore, and began making his bed, still unmade from his having dragged the blankets around out of reluctance to leave.

(Really, though, and he would never admit it, he hadn't wanted to dress just to undress again for a bath, but the Queen of Spades could not be seen to wander around the palace naked as the day he were born, and he'd eventually relented.)

As she helped him dress, because she deemed him to be struggling to clip his trousers braces on, Arthur's like of her solidified. She had the build of a washer-woman and the mouth of a fishwife, and he decided that he would make a list of people he wanted anywhere near him.

So far the list consisted of her and a stray cat he'd found on the way back from the lake that he knew to be lingering around the gardens. The list would soon expand, but so far, a maid and a cat were more than enough company.

'You need to put some weight on,' she chided, pulling his waistcoat up over his arms and moving to button it for him.

'I'm not an invalid,' he grumbled, but let her do it anyway. 'An' I know, alright? I know. Skin an' bones an' all tha'. I know. 'Scuse me for livin' at sea.'

She tutted, yanked his clothes straight and told him he had chicken legs, change out of those breeches and put the longer ones on so he could wear boots instead.

Arthur almost fell over for laughing.

* * *

He was, typically, late for breakfast. In his defence, it wasn't entirely his fault. Between haircuts, shaves and having to change his clothes at least three times, because one item didn't match with another and what was that maid thinking, you look like a rake, none of these clothes fit you properly, there was no way he'd be ready at the time Yao apparently expected him.

Though, Arthur told him, as he took a seat at _another_ table, even smaller this time, made for four people instead of twenty, it would have been nice to be informed he was expected at a certain time.

'If you'd come to see me when Alfred told you to,' Yao said, sipping on his tea like he had all the time in the world, 'Then I could have told you what time breakfast was served.'

Arthur made a face and reached for a pastry off a plate in the middle of the setting.

'Well, now that the Queen has decided to grace us with his presence, I need to run over a few things with you both.'

Arthur pulled another face, and reached for the pot of tea. To which _Alfred_ pulled a face, and they sat there for several minutes making ridiculous expressions at each other before Yao cleared his throat. Alfred apologised. Arthur made a noise that could have been a Neanderthal's apology, but was much more likely to be a dismissal.

'As I was saying. The other Houses are due to arrive tomorrow, though I have no doubts that Hearts will be likely to appear at some point today. The King is, well, he's very punctual, to the point he seems to enjoy arriving early for things. So try to be on your best behaviours, okay?'

Arthur scratched at his jaw, far more interested in the contents of his cup. He knew Hearts as the most militaristic of the Houses, had battled with their navy many a time over the years, and he worried, a little, that they would know. Of course they would know, though, for piracy bled from every pore of his body and formed the threads that stitched him together into a man. But the King and Queen would surely not have sailed the seas to engage in warfare with the pirates, would they?

He would admit, if forced to, that he had stolen goods from several Hearts ships over the years, and had sold it on in Spades for a decent profit. Would the King or Queen recognise the hoops and studs in his ears for the stolen good that they were? Rubies and emeralds were not that exclusive, he didn't think, not really. Surely they wouldn't recognise them.

Surely.

Maybe the rubies, but not the emeralds.

Perhaps he should seek out sapphires to replace them, just to be on the safe side. It would at least be appropriate to wear the Spades stone.

'Arthur?'

The pirate blinked, turned to look at the King, hummed in question.

'What is it?'

'You were spacing out a little. Wondered what you were thinking about, is all.'

'Nothin'. Don't worry 'bout it.'

Yao was frowning at him, so Arthur frowned right back, and eventually, the Jack moved on to talk further about what was expected of them both as Royals. He was, he said, perfectly aware that Arthur had had no training on etiquette and no lessons on how to best conduct himself in front of the other Royals and begged him to just follow Alfred's example. The other Houses expected Alfred to know what he was doing, but not so much Arthur.

'They don't even know that you are Queen,' Yao said, and Arthur wondered if the Jack was a nail-biter. The way he was tapping his fingers suggested maybe. 'They don't even know we have one yet. We haven't made your existence public yet. We plan to, when the other Houses have assembled.'

'Unveil me to the world,' Arthur hummed. 'As what? An old sea-dog you fished out o' the ocean out o' the kindness o' your hearts? After you condemned his ship to the depths and his crew to the Locker, you brought him back and left him in the dungeons t' rot until the King was ready t' take the throne.'

Alfred stared at him. 'How long were you in the dungeons?'

'I lost count o' the days. Ten. Thirty. Eighty. I don't know.'

Alfred turned a glare to Yao. Arthur watched him; give the boy a few years, he thought, and he'll prove to be quite an intimidating sight.

'You kept him locked up for that long?'

'We did what we had to do.'

Alfred glared some more and then shoved his chair from the table and stormed out.

'Well done, my Queen,' the Jack said, the sarcasm in his tone enough to make an island of a mountaintop. 'We really needed that this morning. Honestly, the two of you are so capricious!'

'Hardly. I am the bull, and he the crab. Capricious defines the goat.' Arthur got to his feet, dusting himself down and draining the last of his tea. 'I'll go find him. And I'll tell him the truth, Yao. I'll explain it all.'

'No,' Yao replied, shaking his head, apparently having given up. 'You won't. You can't tell yourself the truth, let alone him.'

Arthur slapped the cup down and left the room. This coat he'd been bullied into had a heavy skirt with a dozen pleats at the back, and it whirled rather spectacularly behind him, making his exist far more dramatic than it actually was.

* * *

Alfred was hiding in the garden when Arthur eventually tracked him down, sitting on a bench beneath an arch, knotted with ivy and what could be a rose bush, if it was cared for properly. He was glaring at the gravel between his feet, hands fisted against his thighs, teeth gritted. Arthur cut across a flower bed, carefully stepping between the plants to hop back onto the path.

'Alfred.'

The King's eyes flashed, turned up and peered over the frames of his spectacles. He sat up as Arthur stood there, and eventually moved slightly to one side, giving his partner room to sit.

'Is it true?' he asked. 'What you said?'

Arthur nodded. 'Aye. I exaggerated on the time I spent there. The King and Queen that came before us had already died when I got caught. We saw the smoke from the palace, the two blue pillars, and we heard the toll o' the bell. We mourned them.'

'How did you get caught? I thought pirates weren't supposed to be caught.'

Arthur smiled at that, leant back on the bench and spread his legs out to catch the sun. Arms resting over the back of the bench, he looked out over the gardens and not at Alfred.

'Aye, we're not meant t' be. Doesn't stop us from gettin' over arrogant. Cocky. Yao – he had a spy aboard. Leavin' signals for the Spades ships. Showin' 'em where we were goin', like, makin' it so we could get caught out. My ship's on the floor now, just planks o' wood and strips o' cloth.'

Alfred was quiet for a few minutes.

'And the crew?' he asked, when he'd plucked up the courage.

'Dead.'

Alfred said nothing; there was nothing to be said, Arthur thought, not really. What were you supposed to say to that? Condolences meant nothing.

'I'll fix that pier,' Alfred says. 'Well, get someone who knows what they're doing to fix it. So you can go out on the water whenever you want. It's not much, but.'

Arthur smiled and nudged Alfred's arm with his elbows, even though they didn't look at each other. Well, Arthur didn't look at Alfred, so he had no way of knowing if the opposite was true.

'It's a lot. Thank you.'

When he glanced at Alfred out of the corner of his eye, the boy's scowl had faded into a smile directed to his shoelaces.

* * *

By the time they got back to the palace, there were carriages drawing up at the front steps.

'Hearts?' Alfred asked.

'Looks like.'

As if the giant hearts decorating every inch of the bloody things wasn't a give-away enough. Honestly, that boy.

Yao was about thirty seconds away from having a conniption by the time they'd reached him, and let the Jack fuss over them, dusting their shoulders and straightening ties, and Arthur thought it highly unfair that Alfred's necktie was a very standard affair. He would go as far as to say it was _boring_. Arthur, meanwhile, got a bow.

That, he grumbled to himself as he let Yao fuss over it, was very unfair.

Still, there was nothing he could do about it now, so he stood there and let Yao finish making him look as presentable as he could and then the rulers of the Kingdom of Hearts arrived.

(The moment Yao's back was turned, he was undoing the knot of the bow and folding the tie into a cravat instead. It looked even more pompous than Alfred's standard tie, but at least it wasn't as ridiculous as the bow.)

There was something of a culture clash between the three Royals, and Arthur had to bite down a smile at the semblance to their own. He bowed a little lower than Alfred when the King and Queen approached them, though his eyes followed the Jack, who was already wandering off of his own accord. When he straightened, the Queen was looking at him, at Arthur, with something akin to fond exasperation. Not unusual, then, he guessed, and tilted his head in a polite nod, returned in equal measure.

With formal introductions made, not that Arthur had apparently listened, they were free to drop the formalities. Alfred seemed more than happy to drag the King of Hearts off into some antechamber or another, already babbling about some treaty or another he had plans for. Arthur, perhaps wisely, chose not to listen. The Queen of Hearts was still standing there, patiently waiting for the Jack to get picked up off the floor where he'd fallen (at least, that is what Arthur assumed to have happened), and quietly side-eyed Arthur the entire time.

Arthur stared at him, eyebrows pulled together and mouth tight, but the Queen continued to half-ignore him.

Eventually, Arthur gave in.

'Would you like t' take a walk around the gardens?'

'That would be lovely.'

Which wasn't _exactly_ an agreement, but Arthur decided to take it as such, and stepped away as if to turn and head for the doors. The Queen followed.

Out in the gardens, Arthur found his pace, not all that fast, but a long stride giving the illusion of it being so shortened by the Queen of Hearts' more stately walk. He supposed, as he stopped for the fifth time in as many minutes to allow the shorter man to catch up, that it was in part their different heritages, but also the Queen's robes created something of a hindrance to movement. Though not very tall, Arthur suspected that the Queen could move with some considerable speed and agility should he wish to.

His life had become, over the course of one day, one of making grand assumptions from small, insignificant details, of suspecting and supposing, and he wasn't sure how he felt about that.

'The flowers are just coming into bloom,' the red queen offered, and Arthur blinked at him. 'They'll be lovely once the weather brings them to full flower.'

'Aye,' he said, and rubbed his nose. 'I suppose they will.'

'Do you not care for flowers?'

'Aye, in a way. I prefer the open sea.'

Hearts had been leaning slightly, nose buried in dark purple buddleia, but he straightened to look at Spades in – well, to be honest, there wasn't really an expression there. He merely looked, and Arthur looked back.

'I missed your name,' he said, feeling the fool.

He was good at that.

'Kiku,' the other Queen replied, and smiled a little. 'I apologise for missing yours in turn.'

'Arthur.' Then he cleared his throat, and said it again. It was no good teaching a man whose accent was so different from your own to pronounce your name when you drop the H.

Kiku smiled at him and turned to continue along the path. It was a very secretive sort of smile, all silent grace and emotionless intent. Intent to what, Arthur wasn't sure – and couldn't suppose, knowing nothing about the man who smiled – but there was intent there.

'Do you have any water fountains?' Kiku asked, 'I would like to sit a while, and the sound of water is most relaxing.'

Arthur pulled a face and then spread his hands.

'I'm not entirely sure,' he admitted. 'There is a lake, but I wouldn't recommend it without sturdy boots.'

Kiku nodded. 'I understand. Let's walk a while, we may find one.'

Arthur thought to himself, slowing his stride again to let Kiku match it, that he probably knew whether there was a water fountain, and let Kiku's pace be the one to lead. If he did know, he'd eventually lead Arthur to it.

'You're from the Eastern Kingdoms, aren't y'?' Arthur asked, breaking the silence filled only by the crunch of gravel under his boots and the incessant twittering of a bird somewhere in the trees nearby.

'Yes,' Kiku replied, and smiled at his toes. 'Did you think I was wearing their fashion for the enjoyment of it?'

Arthur laughed a little, rubbed at the back of his head. 'You can never be too sure,' he said. 'Out on t' water, when I was – there were people who disguised 'emselves as another breed.'

'When you were?'

Kiku seemed to be genuinely interested, and Arthur supposed he'd dropped himself in it now, what with starting the admittance, so he sighed and mumbled something about being a pirate.

'Ah,' Kiku hummed, and folded his hands across his middle carefully. 'I have heard stories of the pirates. Few have reached my homeland, and those that do seldom return to the West.'

Arthur nodded. 'Aye, aye, I've heard stories of what your people do to them. Well – not jus' yours, I guess. But the Eastern Kingdoms.'

'We don't take kindly to outsiders,' Kiku admitted. 'It's something of a cultural fault.'

'And yet here y' are, Queen o' Hearts.'

'We do not choose our Fates,' Kiku hummed, and let out a quiet sigh of appreciation. 'Ah, hear? The water. There is a fountain close by.'

Filthy little liar, Arthur thought, trailing after him as the little Red Queen in his robes tottered off to go and find it, he knew damn well that there was a fountain in the gardens.

Sitting on a bench and looking out over the carefully arranged flowers, patches of blue and violet and deep emerald green with the water tinkling behind them, Arthur mused to himself about how nice a company Kiku proved to be. He was quiet, and thoughtful, and his whole aura seemed to be one of demure grace. It was a pleasant change from the King of Spades.

'What can you tell me o' your Kingdom?' Arthur asked after a little while of silence. 'The King an' Jack, I mean. I know o' your military strength, like, and your advancements in technology. Everybody knows that.'

'Have you not been trained?' Kiku asked in reply, fiddling with the cord tied about his waist. 'It seems a little unseemly for the Queen to be presented to people he doesn't know.'

'They 'aven't had time,' Arthur shrugged, and pulled himself up from his slouch. 'I was only introduced t' Alfred yesterday. He's not taken well t' bein' King, from what I've 'eard.'

'It is hard,' Kiku agreed with a soft nod of his head. 'To be put in a position like that. No matter how long you are trained for it, all the knowledge in the world cannot give you the experience you need.'

'No, I suppose not.'

Kiku smiled then, raising his hand to give a nearby butterfly somewhere to land. 'He'll work it out in time, though,' he assured, and hummed. 'That is a rare wing pattern, I haven't seen one as beautiful for some time.'

The butterfly sat there for a while before flapping off in search of nectar, leaving them alone again.

'The King is an emotionally stunted kind of man,' Kiku said. 'He was raised in the belief that he would serve in his predecessor's army, not as the head of the Kingdom itself. He has long since shut off his emotions to better himself as a ruler. If I were to be honest, I would wish he hadn't; it is so much harder for me to understand the needs and desires of you Western breeds.'

Arthur snorted, but didn't say anything.

'The Jack is the other half of the Pair. They met one day, from what I understand, when Feliciano – the Jack – had gotten lost in the woods. It was not long after that that his pupils changed and his sigil appeared. When he presented himself to the court as the next Jack of Hearts, I hear they tried to laugh him out. But Ludwig – the King – wouldn't hear of it, and spoke at length with the Jack.'

He sighed then, and refolded his hands in his lap. 'I am glad for their Pairing,' he admitted. 'It is nice to see them so happy.'

'And what 'bout you?' Arthur asked. 'Do you have a Pair?'

'Not that I am aware of,' Kiku admitted. 'I am tied to the King, as all Queens are. Whether my Pair lingers still, I don't know.'

'You're too nice a chap t' be on your own.'

'I'll take that as a compliment, I think, as I must confess, I have no idea what "chap" means.'

'Man.'

'Oh. Then yes, thank you.'

Arthur laughed and lifted his head to soak in the sunlight.

'Glorious day, though,' he said, 'Would be a shame to go in.'

'Then let's not,' Kiku replied. 'It would be better if there were tea, but for now, we should be content.'

* * *

It was several hours before they returned indoors, and Arthur liked to think they'd made fast friends of each other. He certainly enjoyed the other Queen's company, and he thought that Kiku didn't mind his either. Oh, certainly, they clashed more often than not, and their differences in cultural backgrounds and respective upbringings led to more than a few misunderstandings, but Kiku seemed mature enough to forgive Arthur for his social blundering.

'You were out a long time,' Alfred said, when they'd arrived in the drawing room they'd been sent towards. 'Have fun?'

'What fun is there to have?' Arthur snorted, and waited for Kiku to take a seat before flopping into his own overstuffed armchair. 'Ain't no water in these parts.'

Alfred huffed, called Arthur a rude name that made Feliciano, sprawled across a loveseat with Ludwig's lap under his legs, giggle. It must be nice, Arthur thought, looking at the redness high in Ludwig's ears, and the hand on the Jack's ankle, to have someone you loved like that. His gaze turned to Alfred, and his brow wrinkled a little.

'Don't be rude,' Ludwig chided. 'It's not right for a King to insult his Queen. You have more need of him than he of you.'

Alfred flushed and Arthur smirked, turned his attention to the books on the unit to his right. There looked to be a mighty collection of them, but he very much doubted he would have the time to read even the shortest, let alone all of them. No doubt Yao would find some menial task or another for him to occupy his day with.

Kiku, during their time out in the garden, had expanded the topic of discussion to the other houses, told his fellow Queen about the other Suits and brought him as up to speed as he could on the current political situation of the four Kingdoms.

'When will the other Houses arrive?' Arthur asked then, breaking a moment or three of silence.

'Tomorrow afternoon at the earliest,' Yao replied, flicking through some form of paperwork Arthur cared little for. 'There is bad weather coming off the Southern seas.'

Arthur hummed. 'I hope it doesn't wreck too many ships.'

'As long as they're pirates,' Alfred said, 'What does it matter?'

Kiku coughed, polite and yet pointed, and that was nice of him, Arthur thought. Alfred blushed.

'Well, it'll take a while to reach us, won't it? They'll be here by then.'

'Yes,' Ludwig agreed. 'But I have heard rumour of Lili's health failing, and you know her brother will not allow her to travel if she is ill.'

'Francis won't go anywhere without her,' Feliciano added, 'He loves her far too much.'

'Or he loves showing her off,' Ludwig murmured, and Arthur decided he rather liked the King of Hearts.

'I can see why,' Feliciano said, sighing and turning so his head rested in Ludwig's lap rather than his calves. The red in Ludwig's ears deepened to scarlet. 'She's very pretty, even if she is a little matchstick girl.'

'Don't be rude,' Ludwig repeated, and Feliciano made a noise of protest.

'She is, though! She's smaller than Kiku, you know. In every direction. When you put them next to each other, he looks like you, and she looks like me!'

That seemed something of an exaggeration, Arthur thought, looking between the King and Queen. Kiku had something of an embarrassed blush on his face to match Ludwig's, but that was where any similarity ended. Arthur simply couldn't imagine Kiku being the tallest and broadest of a pair; the size of the one he stood beside would have to be a child for it to even seem reasonable.

'How old is Lili?' he asked, one of the few things that Kiku hadn't offered.

'It varies,' Ludwig said, and sighed as Feliciano dragged the King's hand to his hair, obligingly petting it as he spoke. 'The official statements say that she is eighteen, but she simply doesn't look that old. If I met her on the street, I would imagine her to be sixteen at the oldest. She could be as young as fourteen, with how small she is.'

Alfred frowned, and poked at Arthur's ribs. 'That's a little suspect, don't you think?' he asked. 'Saying she's eighteen when she's not?'

'If I met you on t' street, I wouldn't consider you more than a boy,' Arthur told him, and Alfred pouted.

'I'm mature.'

'You're still growing,' Yao said, still looking over the papers. 'These seem to be in order,' he announced when he was done, and returned them to their folder, 'I'll get them signed and returned to you in the morning.'

'Thank you,' Ludwig nodded. 'It will be nice to consider you truly our allies once more.'

Arthur hummed. 'Well, let's not go startin' any wars an' we won't need to consider each other anythin' but, will we?'

Kiku smiled, and Feliciano laughed, snuggling deeper into his Pair's lap and making Ludwig flush down his neck. Arthur thought it sickly sweet, but envied them, a little. Another glance at Alfred confirmed, as he studied the profile of his King, the slight hook to the nose, the boyish curve to what should be a strong, regal jawline, the wide grin as he laughed at his fellow King, foppish hair and manner, that they would never have that kind of relationship.

Later that night, after eating a simple meal, all the extravagance saved for tomorrow's meeting of the four Houses, Arthur retired early, seeking out the privacy of his chambers, knowing he would need everything he could muster to survive. Kiku had warned him of the Kings of Clubs and Diamonds, and he would need his wits, no doubt, just to survive a meeting with the King of Diamonds. Not to say that he was allowing his opinion to be coloured before meeting the man, of course!

He'd do no such thing!

Yet he trusted Kiku's word, and didn't much fancy the idea of getting caught out for his own foolishness.

That didn't make it any easier to sleep, though, and he ended up returning to the drawing room with a pot of tea to read a while. Alfred came stumbling in not half an hour after Arthur had settled, looking far too tired.

'You're half-naked,' Arthur said, only sparing an upwards glance to see who had broken the quiet of the room.

'Tired,' Alfred murmured, and flopped onto the loveseat. 'Can't sleep. 'S lonely.'

'And? What d'you want me t' do 'about it?'

'I'unno.' He was getting more tired by the moment, bless him, sinking into the upholstery, and that really wasn't a place for a King to sleep, but Arthur let it go. 'Stay w'me?'

'No.'

Alfred huffed and rolled over, back to his Queen, but Arthur suspected it was more to do with comfort than it did annoyance. After perhaps twenty minutes of silence, Arthur murmured his King's name.

'Wha'?'

'Sit up.'

When Alfred had done so, Arthur, grumbling under his breath the entire time, moved to sit where Alfred's head had been.

'There,' he said, and tugged Alfred down to rest in his lap. 'Try that.'

He'd seen the way Alfred had looked at Ludwig and Feliciano, and it didn't really cost him anything other than a dead leg to have the King sleep in his lap. Alfred huffed and fidgeted into place, ending up on his side, curled up to fit into the space left him. Arthur smoothed his hand down Alfred's bare arm, eventually reaching up to pet through his hair, smoothing it away from his face.

'You're a nuisance,' he said, and Alfred grinned, lazy and sleepy.

'So're you.'

The slurs in his voice amused Arthur a little; it was much more fitting to Arthur's broader accent than it was to Alfred's more refined one.

'Just sleep. We 'ave a busy day ahead o' us tomorrow.'

'Alright.'

With a soft sigh and another pet of Arthur's hand, Alfred slept.

In the end, Arthur didn't get much sleep, dozing off briefly when Alfred was at his stillest, but it didn't do much for his neck and he ended up staring at the fire for most of the night. The morning saw him hunting down the deepest bathtub in the palace to soak his sore muscles the best, leaving with pruned fingertips and loosened muscles in his neck.

'Did you sleep well?' Kiku asked when Arthur arrived in the dining hall, looking for all the world as though he hadn't slept either.

'Passable. You?'

'Agreed.'

Which wasn't really an answer, but Arthur suspected, as he took a seat at the table and helped himself to toasted bread and marmalade, that that was a prominent personality trait of Kiku's that he would simply have to accept.

'The skies are looking a little grey,' he commented, once he'd finished a round of toast and poured a cup of tea. 'Do you think the storm will break today?'

'Possibly,' Kiku agreed, and turned to look out of the window with him. 'I went for a walk this morning, and the air is heavy, but the birds are still singing. When it goes quiet is when the rain will come.'

'I hope it doesn't come too soon,' Feliciano offers, pouting a little. 'I don't want to have to go home in it.'

'We won't be going home in the rain,' Ludwig assured him, and pushed the Jack's plate closer to him, as if to try and recapture his attention. 'Alfred has already said that if it comes when we're here, we are welcome to stay until it leaves.'

'That was nice of him.'

Arthur smiled a little, and caught something of a smile on Kiku's face too as he turned away from the Pair the other end of the table to his own breakfast. They were a sweet couple, no doubt, and it amused him to see Feliciano so easily bowled over by Ludwig's quiet insistence. They fitted well together, and he wondered how Feliciano fared in his role as Jack. It did certainly look as though he could keep Ludwig's temper – if there was one, the man looked incredibly calm right now – under control.

Political mediation was a hard job, but Arthur knew the Fates weren't going to choose a man unsuited to his role.

Oh.

Before he had more time to think on that, Yao was bursting into the room, flapping his too-long sleeves like a madman.

'You're a mess!' he cried. 'You're all messes! You can't present yourselves like that! Go and get dressed this instant!'

Arthur looked around the table; Kiku was the closest to being formally dressed, but even he was wearing plain robes that had only one embroidered heart on the breast to identify his House. It was certainly not something to present yourself to the other Queens in. He was honestly a little surprised, in his breeches and shirt, that the red Queen was allowing himself to be seen so informally.

But then, Feliciano seemed to be wearing the shirt that Ludwig had worn yesterday, so Arthur decided the culture clashes had proven to loosen his Eastern morality up a little.

Ludwig didn't seem to be too impressed about being shouted at by the Jack of Spades, but he kept his tongue for now, agreeing with a nod that they should get dressed.

'It is one thing to sit around and take breakfast in informal wear,' he said, 'But it's another entirely to wear it at a state function. Feliciano, come.'

Feliciano didn't want to leave the table and the food, but Ludwig promised him they could return when they were dressed, which placated him enough that the King could drag him away.

'Does that happen every morning?' Alfred asked, the first Arthur had heard him speak all morning.

'Yes,' Kiku said. 'Unfortunately.' After bowing and excusing himself, he too left to get dressed.

Yao was tapping his foot expectantly and Arthur huffed, downed the last of his tea and returned to his chambers to dress. His maid, whom he had requested serve him and him alone, was waiting for him, a little giddy with the impending state visit and Arthur laughed at her as she manhandled him into a neatly-pressed outfit of a very royal blue.

'I can dress myself, y'know,' he grumbled as she buttoned his waistcoat.

'I'm earning my money's worth,' she replied, and he laughed again.

Personally, as he studied his reflection, he thought he looked a fool – blue very much _didn't_ suit him, but he couldn't exactly wear red any longer.

'Did you find any new earrings?' he asked as he sat to pull on his boots.

The maid nodded, and excused herself so she could fetch them. Arthur didn't much care at that precise second, but it was too late to stop her.

Soon enough, dressed in a full suit with that bloody necktie again, and all the studs in his ears replaced with sapphires, there will little else to do but go down to wait for Clubs and Diamonds to arrive.

**++End Chapter++**

**NOTES::**

I'm laughing because this is 6000 words of nothing except character interaction and faux-development.

But it needs to be there because hahaha wait till you see what's coming.

**++Vince++**


	3. Marriage

**For this Chapter:**

**Character(s): **England, France/Liechtenstein, America, Japan, Switzerland, Hungary/Austria, (Russia,) Germany/Italy

**Rating: **K+

**Warning(s): **language, sickness

**Summary: **The Queen of Diamonds is a sickly girl, but there's enough energy in her to talk.

**A/N: **I'm putting off assignments for you little shits, you better enjoy this. Enjoy, my lovelies~!

**Chapter Three: Marriage**

_Marriage (n): a German 6-card trick-and-draw game for two players in which players score bonus points for the "marriage" of King and Queen of the same suit._

* * *

Lili, Arthur learnt, really _was_ a little matchstick girl. Though she was trying – and God, if she wasn't trying – to stand straight, she was clutching onto Francis' arm and leaning on him as though he were the only thing keeping her upright. The careful way he rested his hand over hers and kept his stride, which was obviously going to be as long as Arthur's, if not longer, so short and steady made it obvious there was no "as though" about it.

The Queen of Diamonds was a sickly child, and there was simply nothing anyone could do about it. It broke Arthur's heart, in a thousand ways he didn't know it could break, and he wondered if he might ever be able to walk with her in the gardens as he had with Kiku. Honestly, it seemed unlikely.

She gave him a pretty little smile and gathered her skirts in one hand. Francis's fingers tightened, a squeeze to hold her hand, and she bent one tiny foot behind the other to give him a half-curtsey. Arthur smiled back, returned the bow.

Francis glared. Arthur frowned, and two fingers in his loose hand tightened, prepared to lift in his direction, but Alfred, standing beside him, and talking to the King of Clubs, squeezed his wrist in warning.

That was a surprise; Arthur hadn't thought him to be paying attention.

'Good morning,' Lili said, either not noticing Francis' look, or paying it no attention. She had a wispy little voice, and Arthur knew he'd have to pay attention at all times any time she was in the room, else he'd never hear her. 'Thank you for having us.'

He laughed then, and relaxed his stance a little.

'There's no need t' thank us,' he assured her. 'It's a pleasure t' have y'.'

Francis continued to glare, and Arthur continued to frown.

'Francis?' Lili asked then, after the silence had dragged. 'Could I sit, please?'

His whole demeanour changed then. It was as though the scowling monster of a man had been completely replaced. If Arthur didn't know better, he'd think his very soul had been exchanged, for his face softened, and his expression became so gentle, so _devoted_ Arthur felt something wrench.

Oh, he thought. Oh dear.

'Of course you can, my darling,' he said, 'Where would you like to sit?'

Arthur thought it more than a little impudent that Francis assumed she might sit wherever she liked, but it was hardly, looking at how _tiny_ her exposed joints were, as if he was going to refuse her anything. Honestly, he worried a fright might stop her heart or a strong gust of wind might break her back.

'Might we go to the gardens?'

'It's a little cold out,' Arthur offered, 'The storm's comin' closer. I wouldn't want y' t' ruin your dress.'

Francis snorted. 'The dress is the least of my concerns.'

'He's right,' Lili sighed. 'It's such a pretty dress, I'd hate for it to get ruined. Perhaps somewhere I can look out, then?'

The last was addressed to Arthur, and he tapped his lip for a second.

'I know the perfect place,' he said. 'There's a sunroom, with glass walls t' look out o'er the gardens. We could take tea there, if you'd like?'

She smiled again, all hollow cheeks and glass eyes, and said that that would be lovely.

It seemed to be a phrase shared by the Queens. He awaited the day he said it himself.

'Alfred,' Arthur said, and yanked his wrist to get Alfred's attention.

'Hmm? What is it?'

'I'm goin' t' take Lili t' the sunroom for tea. You're welcome t' join us.'

The offer was then extended to Kiku and the Queen of Clubs, Erzsébet, who had enough of a militant look about her that Arthur straightened his spine automatically.

Kiku nodded and excused himself from the conversation with his Jack to join the party for the sunroom. After curtseying to her King and excusing herself from her Jack, Erzsébet moved to join them too.

'I'm going to stay,' Alfred told him, 'Got politics to talk.'

He looked at Lili then, and tugged Arthur closer to whisper in his ear.

'Maybe you should be giving her cake, not tea.'

'I'm not sure she'd be able t' eat it,' Arthur whispered back, and backed away.

Francis was still glaring, so Arthur finally gave in to the urge to make a rude gesture and led the Queens and the King of Diamonds through to the sunroom. There was a servant standing around, so Arthur asked (demanded) that he go and fetch the love seat from the drawing room for the Diamonds, and he scurried off to do so.

'I'm sorry,' Arthur said, as Francis helped Lili sit in one of the plush armchairs. 'If I'd known, I would 'ave 'ad it sorted for y'.'

'It's fine,' she assured him, and tugged on Francis's sleeve, brittle little fingers knotting in the crushed silk until the King acquiesced and perched on the arm of the chair, letting her have his hand to play with.

Arthur watched them as he took his own seat. The differences in their hands was more of a shock than he'd thought it to be, and he watched Lili's face as she studied Francis' fingers, the rings there and the torn skin around his thumbnail, tutting at him.

It seemed a little out of place for her to tut at him for not taking care of his hands when her own looked like they were barely more than bone.

Eyes turning up to Francis and knowing that nothing short of a sword between the ribs would get the man's attention away from his Queen, Arthur turned instead to Erzsébet.

* * *

Though Arthur was devoting his attention to the lead speaker, he kept one eye and one ear on Lili at all times. It seemed the right thing to do, with her cuddled into Francis' side and nursing her tea as she was. He worried there was something more than just ill health, but he thought it would be wrong to pry so soon into their acquaintance.

Not too long after the third pot, as Arthur and Erzsébet shared their military histories, Lili extended one thin arm to set her cup and saucer down.

'Francis?' she whispered, and Arthur stopped speaking.

'Yes, darling?'

'I'm tired.'

Arthur supposed fatigue was common with the underweight and ill. He didn't blame her; keeping up with the conversation was hard for him, he couldn't imagine how it must be for her.

'Then sleep,' Francis said, either not noticing or not caring that the conversation had come screeching to a halt.

Erzsébet piped up then with an agreement, 'If you need to rest, then rest! It'll do you some good. I haven't had time to reply to them, but I have read your letters, you know.'

'Letters?' Francis asked, finally looking away from his Queen to look at the Club.

'We do keep up a correspondence outside of your watch, you know,' Erzsébet sniffed.

Francis seemed to not care enough to pursue it, turning his attention back to Lili.

'Sleep, sweet,' he insisted, and Arthur had to give him that. Francis' voice was silk, accent curling in terribly romantic ways, and it was obvious, to Arthur at least, that he used that tone and the fingers on her arm to great efficiency regularly.

'But it's incredibly rude,' Lili mumbled, and looked a little distraught at that fact.

'We don't mind,' Erzsébet assured her. 'Go and rest, and we'll talk some other time.'

'I'd like to rest here,' Lili whispered, playing with one of the trims on Francis' doublet. 'If that's alright by you.'

Arthur rose to his feet, dusting crumbs off his breeches. 'I'll find y' a coverlet,' he told her.

He didn't personally find it, but a maid he found in the corridor outside did, and he followed her to the linen cupboard to choose the most appropriate blanket for the Queen of Diamonds. He made sure, to the best of his ability, that it wasn't going to irritate her skin or overheat her, not that he had much practice in such things, and returned with it over his arm.

Lili had already fallen asleep by the time he re-entered the sunroom, nestled into Francis' side with her shoes off and legs curled up under her. Francis had his arm around her, thumb rubbing the ball of her shoulder beneath her dress.

''Ere,' Arthur murmured, and spread the blanket out to help Francis drape it over her. 'Her skin's cold.'

'Yes,' Francis replied. 'It is.'

But he didn't say anything else, so Arthur sat back down and turned to his tea.

'What's wrong with 'er?' he asked, when the silence grew to be too much.

'There's nothing _wrong_ with her!'

'Don't talk t' me like that, y' little shit,' Arthur snapped, and felt no remorse for doing so. His title was merely that, a title. He would remain a pirate until the day his body died, and no amount of Queenly training would change that. 'She's clearly not in good 'ealth, an' moddly-coddlin' 'er isn't goin' t' 'elp.'

'Arthur,' Kiku warned, but Arthur wasn't listening.

If mild-mannered unobtrusiveness was Kiku's prominent personality trait, then plain old rudeness was Arthur's. Ignoring warnings were part of what made him such a good pirate.

(Here there be monsters, the maps would say. Then let's go slay them, Arthur would reply.)

'There is no cure,' Francis admitted eventually, after the silence dragged on so long Arthur feared he might have to disturb Lili's slumber for the shaking he would give the King of Diamonds. 'Not one that we know of, anyway. We have sought one out the world over, but one illness leads to another, and no singular cure will repair the damage. It is all we can do to stop the sickness progressing.'

'She sends me letters,' Erzsébet said then, playing with the cut-out of her skirt's hem. 'Tells me her symptoms as she notices them. I think she hopes that keeping me abreast of her health will enable me to find a cure for her. But the symptoms don't match any illness that Clubs knows of.'

'I receive letters as well,' Kiku offered. 'Our technologies are well known as being advanced, but our medicine is not strong enough to save her.'

'It's fatal?' Arthur asked, feeling a little grey.

Francis shook his head. 'We don't know. As I said; there is no singular cure, because there is no singular illness. All we can do is pray.'

'Prayers will not save her.'

'What else is there to do?'

And he sounded so broken, so utterly _defeated_, that Arthur pitied him. It must be hard, he thought, to watch your Pair die before your eyes. He had thought he understood that pain, but she had never been his to grieve over.

'Has she always been like this?' he asked, instead of trying to comfort the King.

What was there to say?

Again, he received a shake of the head.

'No, not to this extent. Her health has always been fragile, but when she was young, she was healthy enough to work with her brother. It was rough, so Vash says, but they managed, and she was prone to sickness, but she soldiered on and did her best. When her Card appeared, and her pupils changed, that's when things turned sour. As though her body had just simply given in, she fell to her bed with every illness and more. In her sixteenth year, she was bedridden with a chill and that was it. She was lost to us.'

Arthur looked at her, at the hollows in her cheeks and the bruises on her eyelids, the sharp bones of her wrists and collar, peeking out from beneath dress and blanket both. There was something doll-like about her, about how fragile she looked. All porcelain limbs and carefully painted details. Her hair was unfashionably short, shorter than Francis', and carefully arranged with a ribbon tied to hold one side away from her face.

'She's wearin' make-up, isn't she?'

Francis nodded. 'A wig, too. She used to have hair to rival Erzsébet's in length and wealth, but when the sickness hit, it began to thin. We cut it, in hopes it would preserve it, but soon there was nothing left. We act like there is nothing wrong, but it breaks my heart to see her so.'

Arthur thought it a little rude to expose her secrets like that, but he supposed she would tell him in her own time, and he was nothing if not a good liar. He had lied to himself all his life, what was lying to a sick girl for a few weeks until she felt courage to trust him with her health? The other Queens obviously knew, for they showed no signs of surprise on their faces – not that he'd expected to see it on Kiku's face, of course – so it was presumably only right that Arthur was let into the circle and brought up to speed on matters.

'Surely brushin' it under the carpet is an idiotic thing t' do,' he mused, 'It will only give the girl the belief that she might survive.'

Looking at her, he failed to see how it was possible.

'Right now that is all she has,' Francis sighed, and bent his head to kiss her hair.

The mood remained sombre for the rest of the afternoon, quiet to allow Lili peace to rest. Sometimes, they tried to start another conversation, but Francis wasn't willing to speak, and Kiku seemed to have nothing to say, so any conversation remained between Arthur and Erzsébet. Not that it was much conversation; they didn't have much to say each other, and nothing in common outside of their shared militaristic backgrounds.

'I would like to challenge you to a duel one day,' she told him, after another conversation fell to silence. 'To see if you're worthy of that scar on your face.'

'I will gladly accept it,' Arthur replied, and poured another cup of tea. 'But do make sure y' aren't wearin' your best clothes when you do; as I pirate, I cheat.'

'We'll see,' was all she said, and Arthur wondered if he would beat her.

Late in the afternoon, Vash came to collect his sister. The sky had darkened over the last few hours, turning black and still, and Kiku went to investigate just outside the doors, determining that the gardens had turned silent.

'It will rain tonight,' he said as he shut the doors. 'If not in the next two or so hours.'

'Want to make a bet?' Erzsébet asked, and Kiku went pale.

Arthur laughed and told her he wasn't a gambling man. A drinker, yes, but not a gambler.

'I like t' keep my funds for my drink,' he said, getting to his feet to stretch. 'An' my luck has never been what you'd call spectacular.'

Even before his Clock stopped, he'd have put his luck as sub-par, go as far as to say it was _bad_.

When Vash arrived, it was with an ugly look on his face. There was no doubt that he'd been complaining about Lili's absence from his side all afternoon, but he at least had the grace not to insult three Queens and a King in one fell swoop by saying as much. There was a brief clash of wills as Vash moved to pick his sister up, but Francis refused to move his arm, and then eventually the King relented. He must have seen something in his Jack's face, but what that was, Arthur didn't know, as Vash had his back to him at the time.

Despite not being a particularly big man – not like Alfred was, or the King of Clubs, whom Arthur had yet to speak to, or Ludwig – there was something about Vash's stance or the line of his shoulders that made him seem taller, broader than he was. It could have simply been that Lili was a child in his arms, cradled against his chest like he never wished to let her go.

Arthur led him to the chambers Yao had arranged for the Diamonds to occupy, and not a word was exchanged between them, save for the pleasantries as Arthur held a door open, or a maid scurried on ahead to make sure there was nothing in their way.

Lili, once she'd been set down in the bed and covered in the duvet, looked even more like a child, and Arthur wondered how valid the state records were. If she was eighteen, she had certainly had a stunted growth, even for a sickly child.

'Let's leave 'er,' he said then, 'Let 'er get some rest.'

'No,' Vash replied, hefting the dressing table chair up and over to the bedside. 'I'm going to stay. I don't want her to wake alone.'

That was fair enough, Arthur thought, but surely his presence would be required at the dinner table? After going to that same table to find out, Francis assured him that both of the Zwingli siblings absences were a regular enough occurrence that no one really minded.

It was during dessert, some freshly prepared chocolate and mousse and pastry that Arthur didn't entirely understand but thoroughly enjoyed, that Vash reappeared. Rather than taking his seat at the table to his King's right, he rounded it, coming straight to where Arthur sat at Alfred's left.

'She wants to see you.'

Arthur blinked, mouth full of pastry and unable to articulate an appropriate response to that that wouldn't spray crumbs everywhere. After swallowing, he nodded.

'Aye, of course. 'Scuse me, gentleman.'

He followed Vash up to the Diamonds suite, where he knocked and a wispy little voice called them in.

Lili was propped up on the pillows, in a pretty nightgown now, rather than the silk dress she'd been wearing during the day. There was a tray of mostly uneaten food in her lap, and Arthur would be blind not to notice how simple it was, and how small the portion size. It confirmed the suspicion he'd shared with Alfred, at least.

''Ello,' he said, and stepped past Vash into the room. It was noticeably warmer in here, the fire burning bright in the hearth, and he wouldn't be surprised if she had a bed warmer by her toes.

'You can go,' Lili told her brother, who was standing in the doorway and making no secret out of his glaring at the back of Arthur's head. 'I need to talk to him alone.'

'I'll be right outside.'

'I know.'

The door clicked shut, and Arthur took the seat Lili's bony hand gestured at.

'Do you want this?' she asked, and gestured at the tray. 'I can't eat any more.'

'Have you eaten any of it?' Arthur asked, because it didn't look like she had.

'A little,' she said, and smiled a brittle smile.

'No,' Arthur told her, shaking his head. 'I've just eaten myself. Try an' eat some more.'

She looked like she was about to protest, so Arthur folded his arms, and she sighed.

'I'll try,' she promised, and he nodded.

'That's all I ask.'

They were silent for a while, Arthur watching the fire, and Lili picking at the bread on her plate. For all the tenseness between them, it was a comfortable silence, an easy companionship.

'I'm sorry,' Lili burst out with when it grew to be too much for her. Though it was clearly an exclamation, her voice didn't rise beyond a normal speaking tone. Poor thing, Arthur thought. 'For falling asleep in the sunroom, and for not being able to eat much, and for ruining everyone's fun.'

Arthur's face contorted a little, as if he couldn't imagine why she'd feel the need to apologise. There was no "as though" about it; he genuinely failed to see how she could be feeling like that.

'It's not your fault,' he told her, and lifted out of the chair to perch on the side of the bed. 'You're tryin' your best. That's all any of us want, y'know. We want y' t' get better.'

'You know, don't you?' she asked, and picked at her fingers. 'Francis must have said.'

Arthur nods. 'Aye. He did. I asked, though. Don't think he would 'ave said if I 'and't prodded at him.'

Without her make-up on, she was a blank canvas, all grey skin and skeletal features. He wanted to make it better for her, bring some natural colour to her cheeks that wasn't rouge, but he wasn't sure how. The one person he knew to have an answer he could trust wasn't around to ask. Which did make it difficult, it had to be said.

'It's fine,' she assured him, and reached to pat his arm. 'I would have told you eventually. I – I'm kind of glad for it. That he told you. That I don't have to. Does that make me bad, do you think?'

'Bad? No, I don't think so.'

She smiled then, and it didn't look quite so brittle.

Good, I'm glad. I know that – that I'm not going to be here much longer, and I don't want to go anyplace bad.'

Arthur was not a religious man by nature; he believed in the ground beneath his feet and the sky above his head, and that was about it. Above all, he believed in the sea and the chill of her embrace, but he had no faith to put into pantheons of Gods and monotheistic zealousness.

Which left him in an awkward position of trying to comfort a girl about her beliefs when he had none to share with her. It seemed to be a recurring theme.

'Oh,' he said. 'Well. Um. I guess.'

'You don't have to say anything,' she said, smiling again. 'I just wanted to talk to you, away from the others. I talk to them all the time, even if they don't always talk back. But I haven't talked to you, and I'd like to. In case I don't get the chance later.'

Arthur chose to believe that it would be in the event of her health failing and rendering her unable to leave Diamonds, rather than the inevitable that everyone knew was coming for her.

'Is it scary?' she asked, and fiddled with her fingers. 'Dying?'

'I don't know,' Arthur said. 'I've never died.'

'You have no heartbeat,' she told him, frowning. 'And your eyes don't glow like the other Royals. They glow, but it's not the same. I thought that a heartbeat was the ultimate sign of life? Only dead men have no heartbeats.'

He wondered just how far gone she was that she could tell his Clock had stopped.

'It's strange,' she said, and reached out to touch his face, fingers rough and cold against his cheek.

Her hand was so small and when he lifted an arm to touch, it was completely enveloped by his own.

'You're so cold, and you're not – all here. It's like there are parts of you missing, where no one can reach them. Like you left them behind a long time ago, and the holes aren't healing.' She searched his face and laughed a little. 'It's silly. You look like a ghost sometimes. When I don't look at you straight-on, you don't look like you're here. Like you're a sketch on a completed background.'

He could feel his throat burning, and that, undeniably, was the sign that tears were coming, so he swallowed to try and soothe the burn before speaking.

'My Clock 'as stopped,' he whispered.

Her eyebrows slanted then, mouth turning down.

'Oh. I'm so sorry.'

He laughed and turned his face into her hand a little.

'It's fine,' he assured her. 'I don't deserve your apologies. I've done terrible things.'

'You don't look like a terrible man,' she said, sighing and carefully extracting her hand from under his. 'You just look a little lost, is all.'

He sighed, turned his gaze to his lap, letting his hand fall into it.

'You need t' worry about yourself,' he said, when he'd gathered himself again. 'No use worryin' about a dead man.'

He paused then, looking at her, and Lili, with her glassy, Diamond eyes, looked back.

'What is it?'

'Nothin'. Don't worry 'bout it. Come on, eat a little more.'

She pouted at him, but he didn't let it drop, and eventually she managed to finish one of the slices of bread. He suspected she chose the bread deliberately, but let it go. Food was food, and she was sorely lacking in that department.

'I'm sorry I'm not much company,' she said, and Arthur moved the tray to the dresser so that she could settle a little deeper in the mass of pillows and blankets.

'You're plenty company,' he assured her, and fussed with her blankets. 'Everyone understands, you know. No one likes to be ill.'

Her hand worked its way out from under the duvet to catch his, and the ring on her finger, white gold with a yellow diamond in a setting shaped like her House's crest, flashed in the firelight. It dawned on him then that one day soon he'd be wearing his own, but in silver and sapphire.

'Thank you,' she said. 'I'm glad we got to talk. I think I might go to sleep now, if that's alright?'

'It's fine by me,' he assured her, and rubbed his callused thumb across the dry, cracked skin of her knuckles. 'Want me t' get your brother?'

'Please. Francis too. If it's not too much trouble.'

'Alright. Sleep now.'

Vash was still outside the door, and had something of a glare on his face as Arthur stepped out of the room to allow the Jack entrance. They didn't say anything to each other, and Arthur decided, as he headed back towards the dining hall, not to think anything of it. It was hardly his business, after all. Lili was his business, with both of them being Queens, but the Jack's rudeness didn't bother him.

He imagined he would be the same.

The Suits had retired to one of the drawing rooms, taking their tea and coffee and whatnot in the warmth of that room, rather than the chill of the dining hall. Arthur ignored the eyes turning to him when he entered, and went straight to Francis.

'She wants you,' he said, 'She's with Vash; a maid will show you the way.'

Francis nodded and excused himself from the room, Arthur taking his now-empty seat.

'How is she?' Erzsébet asked.

'I don't have anything t' compare it t',' he said, 'But she seemed t' be doin' alright. She ate a little, an' we talked a while.'

Erzsébet sighed and relaxed in her seat. 'I'm glad. She must be feeling alright for her to have come all this way, but there's no telling what the journey did to her.'

'I'm sure if she falls ill, Spades will provide the best care they can,' Ludwig said, and Alfred nodded vigorously.

'Yeah! Of course we will! What kind of hosts would we be if we didn't?'

Arthur was frowning again.

'If her health was so poor, why did they bother t' come? Surely, it'd be easier for us t' go t' them.'

'Yes,' Ludwig agreed. 'It would, but it would be a poor show. Diamonds are the showiest of the houses, undoubtedly.'

Feliciano pinched him, for all the good it did, since Ludwig's sleeves looked to be thicker than anyone's present.

'Don't be rude,' he said, and it made a chuckle run through Spades. 'You'd be flashy too, if you were a Diamond.'

'I would not,' Ludwig protested, and actually looked _offended_ by the suggestion. 'I would dress accordingly, certainly, but I would not presume to be so free with my expenses.'

Ah yes, Arthur thought, helping himself to tea and one of the freshly-baked biscuits, Kiku had said Hearts was the most financially conscious of the Four Houses. No doubt all nations held one debt or another to them. Still, such prudent management of their funds was a lesson to be learnt.

It occurred to him then that he had no idea as to the financial, political and economic states of the kingdom he was meant to be the Queen of. He would seek Yao out in the morning to find out, or take a trip into the Lower Town and find out from the whores in the Trading Quarter. They, of all people, would know. It was about time he paid them a visit, anyway, they must surely have found that map for him by now.

Not that he'd be able to use it, but at least he'd be able to get it out of any other pirate's minds.

'What are you thinking about?' Alfred asked, leaning over the arm of his chair so he didn't have to talk so loud. Not that it seemed to lower his volume any.

'How best to suffocate you with your pillow,' Arthur replied, sounding entirely too pompous to be remotely serious.

He wasn't.

Not really.

'I'm thinking about the kingdom,' he admitted, 'And the state it's in.'

'Yao said it was alright,' Alfred told him. 'It's been pretty steady the last few years, and he doesn't think us getting crowned is going to make all that much difference. It'll loosen trading if anything, with all the festivities, but otherwise it won't change.'

'Speaking of festivities,' Erzsébet said then, because apparently listening into conversations was not on her list of Things a Queen Shouldn't Do. 'What are you planning on doing?'

'How do you mean?' Alfred asked, leaving Arthur caught in the middle of it.

'Well, when Lili was crowned, Francis held a masquerade ball in her honour, and there was a festival in the town. It went on for a solid week.'

Arthur snorted. 'I don't think so, somehow.'

'Well, you have to at least have a ball,' Erzsébet said. 'It's customary.'

'Now, now,' the Clubs Jack said, and turned a page of the book he had in his hands, 'Don't bully the poor man. No doubt his piracy has left him unable to attend court functions correctly.'

Arthur puffed up, but Alfred grabbed his arm and dragged him closer before he could get to his feet.

'Don't,' he hissed, and looked pointedly at where the King of Clubs sat, looking oblivious to the seething anger rolling off Arthur, but quite clearly aware of it. 'Calm down.'

'He shouldn't insult me,' Arthur hissed back, but sank into his chair anyway.

'We'll have a ball,' Alfred assured Erzsébet then, 'A big one. I think we were planning one anyway, weren't we, Yao?'

'Hmm? Yes, of course. It's customary, after all. There's no sense in breaking tradition. Maybe we'll make it a costume ball, just so Arthur doesn't have to worry about wearing his state robes all night.'

'You could wear your full pirate regalia,' Alfred said, animated and obviously not going to let it go now that the idea was there.

A glare was sent Yao's way, and a smug little smile returned.

'I mean,' Alfred continued, 'You have a plumed hat, right?'

'I did,' Arthur said. 'It went down with my ship.'

'What kind of pirate loses his ship?' the Clubs Jack asked, and Alfred's fingers dug so tight into Arthur's arm there would be bruises in the morning. 'I was under the impression that pirates were meant to avoid capture.'

'Roderich,' Erzsébet huffed. 'Do you want to retire? You're getting _cranky_.'

'It's a fair enough question,' the man argued, finally putting his book down.

God, Arthur couldn't stand him!

'Tell me, how did your ship end up on the bottom of the ocean?'

'She was gunned down,' Arthur replied. 'There was a spy aboard, an' he'd been there long enough that I'd never thought t' question it. He left signals for a privateer vessel in the employ of the Jack of Spades, an' they followed us to a reef before gunnin' us down. When the ship was sunk, they rounded up everyone who 'ad survived the attack, an' killed them all.' He turned his gaze to Yao. 'What happened t' the spy?'

'I don't know,' Yao sniffed, which meant the bastard was still alive.

'No worries,' Arthur said, lip curled in a sneer, 'I'll find 'im eventually. I lost good men that day, an' I won't forgive you for a long, _long_ time.'

'You don't have to forgive me,' Yao said. 'You know full well that we all do what we have to, and if that means killing your crew to get you on the palace grounds then so be it.'

Arthur huffed and excused himself, wrenching his arm from Alfred's grip.

* * *

It started raining an hour or so later, as Arthur sat on the stone steps outside the sunroom leading down into the garden. The awning and stone pillars did little to shelter him from the rain, but he simply didn't care. Sitting there with a cigarette he'd pilfered from one of the stable hands from Diamonds, he looked out over the gardens, watched the rain as it hit the flowerbeds, and just out of sight, he could hear it as it fell into the water feature he'd sat by with Kiku the day before.

He rubbed a thumb under one eye, swiped away the wetness and swallowed thickly.

'What am I supposed to do?' he whispered, and it was lost in the sound of thunder.

Sniffling like the miserable little toad he was, he flicked the cigarette towards the bottom of the steps and buried his head in his hands.

Alfred came to get him in the end, by which time he'd stopped crying and was leaning against the balustrade with his eyes shut. Not asleep, just listening.

'Arthur.'

'Oh, fuck off.'

Alfred laughed and stepped out to crouch next to him. 'Don't be rude.'

It made Arthur smile, at least.

'Come in,' he said then, and patted his hand until he found Arthur's tangling their fingers in an entirely too-forward way. 'Get out the rain before you make yourself sick. What are you doing out here anyway? It's like you want to get ill – and you'll just give it to Lili and then Francis will declare war on us and I don't think either of us are ready for that.'

'Don't be daft,' Arthur said, and allowed himself to be tugged to his feet. 'I won't go near her if I get ill. But besides which! I'm a _pirate_, I don't get sick.'

'Sure you do,' Alfred said, too cheery for gone midnight, and began dragging his Queen back inside. 'Everyone gets sick.'

'I don't.'

'Well.' Alfred thought about it as he pulled Arthur through the corridors towards their chambers, and for the first time Arthur realised they were adjoining. 'Shut up.'

That made Arthur chuckle and then Alfred was manhandling him into his room, huffing and puffing and making all sorts of noise.

'Oh, behave. I can dress myself, you know.'

Alfred snorted and started rifling through his dresser. Arthur found he didn't much care; it wasn't as though he had any personal belongings anymore, besides the ones on his person at all times.

'Here,' he said, when he'd apparently found the loose shirt and breeches he wanted Arthur to wear to bed.

'What.'

'Nightclothes!'

Arthur looked first at the clothes and then at the boy – man – that would soon be his King.

'Alfred, I sleep naked.'

'You're also wet, so you're wearing clothes even if I have to force you into them.'

And with such a sweet face!

'You wound me,' Arthur said, rolling his eyes, but began peeling himself out of his clothes.

He got to his breeches before realising Alfred was still there and _staring_, no less, and Arthur yanked the clothes from his hands, pointing to the door.

'You can leave now.'

Alfred looked at him. Arthur looked back, and Alfred left.

'Brat.'

'I heard that!'

* * *

In the morning, wearing the breeches and shirt he'd been given, sprawled out on his front with his hair a mess and in dire need of a shave, Arthur refused to open his eyes. It wasn't that he didn't want to face the day so much as it was he didn't want to move, comfortable and able to pretend, just for a few moments, that the tingles in his left arm were because a weight not his own had been lifted from it. Sighing and rolling over onto his back to stare at the canopy of his bed for a while, he was soon hauling himself out of bed to go onto the balcony.

The stone tiles were still wet under his bare feet, but the storm had mostly blown over, leaving fresh air and damp earth to greet him. He was still standing there when his maid came in to wake him, and she seemed a little startled to find him up and about already.

'Oh! Good morning, My Lady.'

'That's quite enough of that,' he replied, but he was grinning to himself.

There was no trace of amusement on his face a few moments later, and the maid let out another cry of surprise.

'Your ring's arrived! Would you look at that?'

Arthur whirled around, eyes hard.

'What?' he asked, and tracked wet footprints over the carpeting to go and see. 'When did that get here?'

They stood side-by-side and stared at the little box on the bedside table. A plain box with a plain ring in it. Silver, with a sapphire, as Arthur had predicted, and undeniably a ring designed to be on a woman's finger, but reforged to better fit a man's hand. The band was wider now, the setting and sapphire seeming smaller somehow.

'A maid must have brought it last night.'

'Unlikely,' he said, and snapped the lid of the box down. 'Alfred, most likely. Little shit.'

'He's hardly little,' the maid told him, and gave him a wicked little grin. 'Come, your hair's a mess, and there are _ladies_ in the breakfast room now. You can't go in there looking like an urchin.'

Rolling his eyes, he put the ring to the back of his mind and focused on getting dressed.

* * *

Lili was at breakfast, which was a surprise, wearing another pretty dress, cream with a diamond motif and ruffles and her ribbon had changed to match. Her rouge was a little darker today, the colour of her eyes and lips a little lighter, a little more natural contrast, and she smiled as Arthur entered, heels clacking on the tiles and oh, how he hated the court's fashions!

'Good morning!'

He grinned back and took his seat to Alfred's left, ignoring the King to take one of the pastries and some jam.

Alfred didn't say anything, so neither did Arthur, and there was an awkward push-and-pull between them this morning, neither of them wanting to acknowledge what had happened the night before, and there was a forced bubble of air between them, every movement measured carefully to prevent them bumping elbows or reaching for the same thing. Thankfully, Yao was making enough of a production about the weather that the interactions of the new Royals were the least of their worries.

At one point, Lili tugged at Francis' sleeve and whispered in the ear he leant down to her. Wordlessly, he removed his coat and draped it over her shoulders, and she fussed for a moment with trying to get her hands to stick out of the sleeves without dragging them through her bowl of porridge when she reached for her tea.

Feliciano, sitting opposite her, suggested she roll the sleeves up, and Francis snorted.

'Rolling crushed silk?' he laughed, 'What nonsense.'

'It's easier to get rid of creases than it is food stains,' Feliciano told him, and sniffed.

Ludwig had the sort of look on his face like he knew that full well, and from personal experience no less. Arthur watched them interacting in interest.

'Where's Vash?' he asked eventually, because the Jack's empty seat was beginning to worry him. Surely he wouldn't leave his sister on her own.

'He's doing the rounds with the guards,' Alfred told him. 'It's a thing he does. He woke me up at dawn to make sure I was aware he was doing it.'

He sounded a little sullen, like he wasn't too fond of being woken.

'Really?' Arthur asked. 'You should be awake at dawn regardless. As King, it doesn't do to sleep late.'

Alfred scoffed, and elbowed him. He had sharp elbows, and Arthur suspected, as he rubbed the bruised arm from yesterday, that the little shit knew it.

'Says you,' Alfred huffed. 'You'd sleep all day if no one woke you.'

'Alfred, I lived at sea for most of my life, and I lived a life of piracy t' boot. I barely got any sleep, and what I _did_ get wasn't in a bed.'

That shut him up for all of three minutes, by which time the conversation had changed and left him looking the fool for not having found a witty enough comeback to it.

'He's always done it,' Lili told him, 'Ever since I was young. He always liked to make sure there were no threats or anything – all the doors were locked and windows latched, that kind of thing.'

It was blatantly, despite her seeming ignorance to it, for her safety, and Arthur found himself admiring the dedication that man had to her. He imagined that their parents must have died young, if they struggled for so long. It was no surprise, considering that, that Vash now occupied the position of Jack. It made sense to keep them so close.

Sometimes the Fates could be so cruel and yet so kind.

Vash came in several minutes later, looking a little cranky, but mostly satisfied with himself.

'Your grounds are remarkably clear of threats,' he told Yao as he sat to Francis' right. 'I'm surprised.'

'We have a well-maintained guard system,' Yao replied, a little haughty.

'Yes,' Vash agreed, and Arthur got the impression it wasn't something he did often. 'But it's been a long time since the last meeting of all Four Houses. Don't you think it's a little odd that there haven't been any attempts yet?'

'No,' Roderich said, pushing his spectacles up his nose, and Arthur really, really couldn't stand him. 'Not particularly. We haven't exactly been leaving the house. The most danger anyone has been in recently was when the Queens took tea in the sunroom, and as we are _all_ aware, killing a Queen is an illegal act.'

As Arthur stared at him, he tried to find a reason why he was such a prick and came back with 'not loved enough as a child.'

He laughed at that idea a little, and couldn't bring himself to feel bad for it.

'There will be an assassin in time,' Vash said, 'Yao; you must keep you guards vigilant.'

'Obviously.'

Conversation turned then to the political matters needing to be discussed, and Arthur looked again at Lili, sitting there swaddled in Francis' coat and picking at her porridge, of which he'd seen her eat about three spoons. She smiled across at him when she noticed him staring, and he glanced again at her ring. When Alfred nudged him to get him to pay attention, he remembered the ring on his bedside table.

'Was that you?' he asked.

'Was what me?'

'The ring.'

Alfred blinked, apparently not as fast on his feet in terms of thinking as he looked to be, and then made a noise of understanding.

'Yeah, yeah that was me. I'm sorry for sneaking in and everything. You were really flat-out, though. If I'd had paints I might have drawn on you. Not that you needed a fake moustache, your real one was fine enough. I'm glad you shaved this morning; it was beginning to look weird. You don't look right with facial hair.'

Arthur's expression turned more and more towards a sneer as Alfred spoke, and when he was done, Arthur said, 'Would you like some help getting your other foot in your mouth as well?'

'I'm sorry?'

'Oh, whatever. I'll deal with it later.'

Later was in the evening, when he shut the ring inside a drawer of his dresser after several long minutes of contemplation regarding the disposal of it by a negligent toss over the balcony. But no, that seemed a harsh punishment for a blameless object, and it was a very pretty ring.

For a woman.

So he put it away, decided to forget about it and focus on the more important matters, like the treaties he was meant to examine regarding the Spades' Kingdom's naval forces. As a pirate and a former captain of said navy, he supposed he was the best equipped to understand the navy's needs and internal politics, but that didn't mean he really wanted to go and _talk_ to them, not when he'd fired canon at several of the fleet's ships in the past.

And been fired at in return, but that was beside the point.

Honestly, you run one man through and they brand you a traitor. To think that that same traitor was now Queen of Spades!

He sighed and stood on the balcony for a good half-hour before retiring to his bed.

* * *

He dreamt of times gone by, and woke before dawn, staring at the moonlight filtering through the glass doors onto the balcony. Fuck that, he thought. Fuck the memories and the demons and the anxious waiting.

That map was waiting for him and the girls would be out already, it was just the right time for them. A quick penny could be made from the labourers leaving for the fields, so dressing fast and in the blandest clothes he could find, he yanked on his boots and snuck out of the palace.

He would saddle a horse, but the truth was he didn't know how, and he'd never learnt to ride, either, not having seen a need whilst on the sea. It wasn't as though there was space for a horse.

So he walked, instead, cloak's hood up about his face and sticking to the lesser-known roads. It had been a long time since he walked them, but walk them he had, and soon he was in the shadows of the great cathedral, waiting for one of the girls he recognised to pass his line of vision. Several approached, but he just shook his head and they carried on. Thank God the Spades whores weren't as persistent as they were in the other kingdoms.

Eventually, he recognised a girl's red hair and crossed the courtyard to her, catching her elbow to stop her.

'Why!' she exclaimed, 'Be still my heart, it's Captain Kirkland!'

'Hush,' he chided, and dragged her towards the shadows. 'The map, did you find it?'

'It was hard,' she said. 'My sister's got it now. We weren't sure which of us you'd come to find, so she hid it somewhere safe. She's down on the wharf.'

He nodded, slipped her a few coins, and skirted the main road. The whore's sister was also out working, corset half-undone and barely holding anything in at all.

'Good pay, was it?' he asked as he approached, throwing his hood back so she could see his face.

'You'd better believe it,' she replied, and tugged the laces a little tighter, knotted them off roughly. 'I suppose you're after the map.'

'Aye. For all the good it'll do.'

'He's the one, then?'

He nodded, and sighed. 'Aye. He's the one. The map.'

'Follow me.'

She led him back to the brothel most of the girls answered to, and had him wait around the corner whilst she fetched it. He paid her well for it, and thanked her for keeping it.

'If you aren't going to use it, though,' she said, and tugged on her laces some more. 'What are you going to do with it?'

'Keep it,' he said. 'At least then no one else can get it. It's dangerous. Thanks again.'

He turned to walk away, drawing his hood again and stowing the map between his shirt and tunic.

'Here there be monsters,' she called after him.

He tossed a, 'Then let's go slay them,' back to her.

**++End Chapter++**

**NOTES::**

There isn't much to say about this chapter other than I'm surprised I got it out this quickly and I'm sorry there's more character development than plot, though I've been teasing bits in there.

So, how about that map, eh?

You're not getting another chapter this quick that's for damn sure lol

**++Vince++**


	4. Royal Cotillion

**For this Chapter:**

**Character(s): **England(/America), France/Liechtenstein, Japan, Hungary(/Austria I guess), China

**Rating: **K+

**Warning(s): **a few instances of bad language

**Summary:** The Queen is crowned.

**A/N: **To people who skim-read; you're missing the important details yo. There are also a lot of letters in this chapter, and there's going to be a lot of letters in subsequent chapters, because a lot of the letters are important to the story. Enjoy, my lovelies~!

**Chapter Four: Royal Cotillion**

_Royal Cotillion (n): a game played with two decks of 52 playing cards, in which the two pairs of King and Queen of each suit make up the cotillion. It is so named because if the game is won, each quadrille of royal cards is shown together. _

* * *

_Dearest Erzsébet,_

_I know we are both still in the Spades Palace, but I felt it high time I sent you another letter. There is something secretive and feminine about it all, sending letters whilst in the same building, don't you think? It would be nice if we could send letters like this all the time, but our kingdoms are too far apart, I suppose._

_But there was a reason for this missive! I wished to ask you of your opinion of Arthur, if you would be willing to share your thoughts on him. He is a very handsome man – not as handsome as my Francis, of course! – and I wonder if he had someone before he came to his throne. The maids assigned to our quarters keep gossiping as they help me get ready in the morning (Francis doesn't like them much; he turns his nose up and calls them very rude things I don't think they understand, which is probably a good thing! I like Arthur and Alfred a lot, and I don't think they'd like hearing their staff was being insulted. I know I wouldn't like it very much if someone came to our palace and insulted my maids!) But anyway! They say that Arthur is having a hard time settling in. They don't think he wants to be here._

_I don't think any of us really want to be the Cards we've been chosen to become, but he has been thrust into it and I think he's lost people that were very important to him. He had this look on his face when I spoke to him privately, as though he were about to cry, and it hurt to think that he is still grieving the loss of someone so important to him._

_Do you think there is anything we can do for him? I'd like him to be happy and he seems so sad._

_Oh! Francis is here to take me to breakfast, I'd best sign off!_

_All the best,_

_Lili_

* * *

Arthur was late to breakfast, which wasn't entirely surprising, considering he had to return from the Lower Town and change into suitable attire. His maid had been going spare when he wasn't in his bed, and he tells her that he had simply gone for a walk down to the lake, honestly, you'd think he'd abdicated the way the palace was carrying on! She didn't believe him, but of course she didn't, and he persuaded her to go and run him a bath so he could hide the map where they'd never find it. For now, it was in a locked box with a pendant and ring, but he'd see about having a secret drawer installed for more permanent hiding.

By the time he was ready to go downstairs to breakfast, Alfred was just as mad as the rest of the house, pacing back and forth and waving a bread roll about as though it had personally offended him. Arthur stepped into his route and had to brace himself so when Alfred inevitably bumped into him, he wasn't knocked on his arse.

Rolling his eyes, he shoved Alfred – not as hard as he could have, admittedly – back to his seat and took his own between Alfred and the Jack of Hearts. They'd rearranged this morning, and it put him opposite Francis, who seemed to delight in making rude faces at him from across the table.

* * *

_Kiku,_

_She sent me a letter this morning, though I am only telling you now as this is the first opportunity I have had to do so. I apologise for being rude throughout the course of the day, but I worried I might tell you and the wrong ears might hear. It is not anything particularly worrisome – she hasn't made any mention of her illnesses, which worries me as much as it calms my soul._

_I worry she is going to be too far beyond our reach soon._

_She may send you a letter soon, asking after your opinion of Arthur, though I have no idea how to respond. There is no opinion of the man to give, other than an account of his rudeness and cowardice, but I have seen the same sadness in him that Lili has. The letter said she wants to find a way to make him happy, and I doubt that it is possible to do that without giving him back what he lost._

_I must admit, I am beginning to fear for the worst._

_Erzsébet._

* * *

'Did I miss the plan for today?' Arthur asked, when breakfast was over.

Alfred looked at him.

'Yeah,' he said after a moment's silence. 'Yao started talking about the plans for the ball. We have to learn to dance.'

'Are you jokin'? What makes 'im think I know how t' dance?'

Alfred grinned and nudged him with an elbow. 'That's why we're having lessons, sailor.'

'Don't be rude.'

* * *

_Kiku,_

_It's been a while since I sent you a letter and I apologise! I miss taking tea with you dreadfully, and I apologise for falling asleep in the sunroom when we finally had a chance to do so! It's just, this winter has been utterly __dreadful__ and I haven't been able to do a single thing the entire time. My King and brother have had to do everything I should be doing as Queen and it is so unfair on them!_

_Oh, but enough about me!_

_I have a question for you, if you'll permit me to ask it._

_What do you think of Arthur?_

_He is so very sad, and it hurts, in my heart, to think that one day, Francis could lose me as Arthur has lost his love, and I worry that maybe he might be in the place Francis will go to. Do you think it possible? That we might never know an Arthur not wracked by guilt?_

_Please, if you would, give me your opinion of him, as honest as you wish to be._

_I would like to make him as happy as I can, but I can't think of a way to do so!_

_How do you make such a sad man happy?_

_I'd best sign off, I'm terribly sorry. There is so much to do!_

_All the best,_

_Lili._

* * *

The instructors had taught their predecessors, and it showed. Arthur was an insubordinate little shit by nature, but Alfred had known them for several years, and the differences in their attitudes were driving the doddering old fools insane.

'Arthur, you must take the role of the Queen!' the woman would snap, and Arthur would sneer at Alfred's tie as he stepped back to allow the King to lead.

'Why should I?' he grumbled as he went to the table where Yao had had a light lunch set up for them to eat as they danced. 'I'm not fit for it.'

Alfred nudged him with his elbow and told him it would be alright.

* * *

_Erzsébet,_

_You have nothing to apologise for. I understand._

_Lili has sent me a letter too, and it contains much of what yours did._

_I will think on it and reply to her._

_Kiku_

* * *

'Alfred, you're steppin' on my _feet_!'

'Then get them out of the way! It's not hard, old-timer.'

Arthur glared, but otherwise ignored him, doing his best to follow the steps he'd been shown a dozen times over.

* * *

_Kiku,_

_No you won't you little liar. You won't reply at all, because you never do._

_Erzsébet_

* * *

Neither Alfred nor Arthur was particularly good at dancing, but after they'd trodden on each other's toes a hundred times, they eventually became passable at the rudimentary version of the cotillion they were meant to dance with the other royals.

'Can you imagine Kiku dancin' that?' Arthur asked as they sat to one side to watch their tutors doing it again.

'Not really,' Alfred said, grinning a little. 'I wonder if Lili can do it. She's far too small to be able to do the steps, surely.'

'Aye,' Arthur sighed. 'She might know the steps, but I doubt she can do 'em.'

'That's sad.'

* * *

_Erzsébet,_

_I might._

_Kiku._

* * *

Alfred insisted they practice as often as they could. Well, it was Alfred that insisted it, but Arthur would be willing to bet that Yao had been on the King's back about it all, and nagged until Alfred turned to Arthur for help.

The Jack had a point in his nagging, he supposed. As the new King and Queen of Spades, there would be a thousand eyes on them when they went to dance their first dance following Arthur's coronation, the occasion for which the ball had been scheduled.

(Not that anyone had thought to tell Arthur this, and he wondered whether they'd been intending to keep it from him until he was sat on the throne with the crown atop his head.)

It wouldn't do for them to show the kingdom up by being bad at the courtly nuances. Dancing was such a frivolous pastime, Arthur would think to himself as he cupped his hand to slot against Alfred's and rested his other on the taller man's shoulder, one for the weak-minded and the physical cowards, but if needs must, then he would do as the Devil bid and dance.

Even if Alfred standing on his feet _again_ did make him want to run the bastard through.

* * *

_Lili,_

_I apologise for taking so long to reply to your letter. I wished to have the correct response for you, and making an opinion on a man I have not known for long is a difficult task to do. I hope you will forgive me._

_It is my belief that Arthur is, as you said in your letter, haunted by his past. I cannot say what happened to him, for I do not know, and I do not believe that he would tell me, were I to ask now or in a decade when we tell each other all we might wish to know. Whatever tragedy befell him, or whatever ghost walks at his side, it is there to stay, and I do not believe that there is anything you can do for him, or if there is, it is something that will not work in an instant._

_He is grieving, Queen Diamond. Let him do so. When he is ready to be forgiven for his crimes, he will seek out the one that can grant him the salvation he seeks._

_If you continue being as you are, you may be able to convince him to open up to you. But do not try to force it; you will only force him into a solitude he has surely felt every day since his tragedy._

_Kiku_

* * *

Lili asked Arthur to attend her dressmaking sessions, along with the other Queens. Part of Arthur, as he watched the dressmaker huff and pin a fold of silk to closer fit Lili's frame, wondered why he was here; after all, it wasn't as though the dressmaker would be able to make Arthur's clothes any more than she'd be able to make Kiku's robes.

(They had to call in someone from Kiku's home especially for the new outfit, and Kiku was refusing to part with the nature of his costume, which Arthur could not decide to be either nervousness or a desire to keep the surprise. It was probably neither, and just severe privacy boundaries a mile wide. That seemed more Kiku's style.)

All it really did, though, was make the three Queens distinctly uncomfortable. Of course, they understood that Lili was trying to include them in the process simply to spend time with them, but all it did was remind them that she was one more skipped meal from a more permanent collapse than a simple case of shaky knees.

Arthur tried to explain his worries to Alfred as they sat on the steps late one night a few days after the first dressmaking session, but Alfred seemed to be under the impression that Lili's illness was temporary at best. Arthur decided to chalk it up to blind optimism.

His King would not be so foolish as to not realise the seriousness of her illness. He would make sure of that, even if he had to tutor him himself.

* * *

_Kiku,_

_That wasn't very helpful. Meanie._

_All the best,_

_Lili_

* * *

When Kiku's kimono maker arrived, he disappeared from Lili's dressmaking sessions, and soon it was just Erzsébet, Yao having tracked Arthur down to drag him to a tailor for his own costume fittings.

The man was so highly strung; Arthur wondered how he hadn't ruptured something.

'I still 'ave my old coat,' he said, knowing full well it was in his wardrobe and not allowing anyone to get rid of it. 'Why can't I jus' wear that?'

'Because,' Yao said, circling his Queen as he stood there on the stool looking like an idiot. 'There will be people at that ball who have probably seen you in it before. Let's not have a fight break out the night you're coroneted because of your past. Can we do that?'

Arthur, standing there in unstitched breeches (and thank God he had no modesty to lose) just looked at him.

'Yao, please. Your worries should be on makin' sure the Queen o' Diamonds doesn't faint in that monstrosity of a dress she's got, not worryin' about whether I can look after myself.'

'Someone has to worry about you,' Yao snapped, and stomped off towards the doors. 'God knows you can't!'

* * *

_Lili,_

_You asked for my opinion, and I gave you the situation as I saw it. That constitutes an opinion, I believe._

_Kiku_

* * *

Alfred couldn't sleep again, so Arthur, grumbling all the while, got out of bed to go and take the boy for a walk. He didn't particularly want to, but he supposed he should; after all, the boy had come and dragged him back to bed when he'd sat out in the rain, it was only fair that he help his King sleep.

As they walked around the gardens with a guard in front of them and a second behind, Alfred's hand swung a little closer than normal, the end of his index finger hooking around the crease of Arthur's smallest.

Their hands fell apart as quickly as they'd come together, and they didn't say anything when they parted in the corridor connecting their bedrooms.

* * *

_Kiku,_

_I wanted to know if you liked him! And if we could make him happy, but mostly if you liked him. That was the thing I wanted an answer to!_

_You're such a mean Queen,_

_Lili_

* * *

There was another storm brewing, and Arthur raised it at breakfast almost a week after the first one had come.

'There's nothing we can do,' Yao said. 'Even with all the magic of this world, we can't stop the weather any more than we can restart a Clock.'

Arthur's ribs ached and he had to excuse himself from the table for fresh air.

* * *

_Erzsébet,_

_She seems in high spirits._

_Kiku_

* * *

Alfred commissioned a brooch to be made for Arthur's cravat.

'It's called a stickpin,' was all Arthur said in response to that particular announcement.

'Well, whatever,' Alfred replied, dismissing him with a wave of his hand. 'The point is; I got one of the jewellers in the market quarter to make a _stickpin_ for your cravat. A nice one.'

'Thank you, but I already have one.'

It made Alfred laugh, and Arthur wrinkled his nose.

'Yeah,' he said, and clapped Arthur on the arm still bruised from when the one doing the clapping had grabbed it. 'But you stole that one. Like Yao said, let's not be starting any incidents.'

Arthur frowned some more, and Alfred just smiled at him, apparently very impressed with himself.

'Okay,' Arthur replied, and left the room.

* * *

_Kiku,_

_It's the upcoming dance. She thinks she's going to be well enough to attend, and she might, but I doubt she'll be doing much dancing, unless Francis finds a way to hold her aloft._

_Erzsébet_

* * *

To be fair, the stickpin was very pretty, but also very feminine, and Arthur bit back a sigh before plastering a smile on his face and thanking the King for the gift. Alfred did have an eye for design, Arthur admitted, as he shoved the box it had come in beside his ring in the bottom drawer of his dresser, and it did suit the cut of his state robes, but all the same, it wasn't very masculine.

Then again, he hadn't seen a masculine stickpin in all the time he'd had to look at them.

'It's the thought that counts,' he told himself as he flopped into bed that night, waking before dawn with a nagging feeling in his gut.

* * *

_Erzsébet,_

_Try not to tempt him into doing so._

_Kiku_

* * *

Alfred asked what flowers Arthur liked. Arthur replied that he'd always been fond of roses, and woke a few mornings later to find a blue rose on his bedside table.

He threw it in Alfred's breakfast and stomped off to the lake to bemoan his existence.

Yao made him apologise.

* * *

_Kiku,_

_Assuming, of course, you __did__ give Lili a reply, would you mind sharing your thoughts on Arthur with me as well? I'd like your opinion on him so I can better judge my own feelings._

_I don't much like him, if I'm honest. He's rude, and uncouth, and he's not got much in the way of charisma, it must be said. And yes, I am perfectly aware that Roderich isn't an angel, don't worry too much about whether you should inform me. I just –_

_I don't know. I trust that Lili's feelings are right, that he's just missing something terribly, but I worry there might be something else about him._

_He unsettles me. There's something in him that makes all the hair on the back of my neck stand up, and I find myself looking for the closest door whenever he enters a room. It's as though he sucks every ounce of bravery I have out of me and swallows it into darkness._

_I am the paramount knight of the House of Clubs; the very idea of being scared is laughable!_

_And yet._

_I'm scared of him._

_Erzsébet_

* * *

In the boy's defence, Arthur knew exactly what Alfred was doing, and on some level, the childish attempts at courting were very sweet. They reminded him of the way he'd tried to court as a child, the silly trinkets he'd left for his sweetheart, but he knew, as he sat at the fountain with Kiku as the storm brewed over their heads, that Alfred would never win his heart as he had strived to win his sweetheart's.

'I missed that,' Kiku said. 'Would you care to repeat it?'

'I didn't say anythin'.'

Kiku hummed, and turned back to the samisen in his lap.

* * *

_Erzsébet,_

_I understand your worries. He unsettles me at times, but it seems to be at its worst when we catch him out. As though he has to focus to remain with us. If that is so – if the guilt Lili has cast upon his shoulders is as present as she seems to think it is – I fear for the future of Spades._

_A King cannot survive without his Queen, and Arthur will never be Alfred's the way Alfred needs him to be._

_You are right to be scared. He is a threat to the Solitaire._

_Do not tell Lili; I do not doubt that she will tell Francis, and that will start a war when Francis does his best to take Arthur from his throne before he's even sat upon it once._

_Kiku_

* * *

The closer the coronation came, the more Arthur began to find places to hide away from the preparations. The library was a safe haven for him, and Kiku took to spending time holed up in there with him. They sat and read books and talked in low tones about nothing of importance, and fell silent any time any other person entered the room.

Sometimes, Alfred would come and sit with them, reading over Arthur's shoulder and making a nuisance of himself.

Once, Kiku tried to teach Arthur how to play the samisen, but Arthur's fingers were too flat and rough to have the control needed for the instrument.

'You can fight with the best of them,' Kiku said, sounding very disappointed for such a monotone. 'Yet you cannot play an instrument.'

'Not that one,' Arthur replied, indignant. 'I can play the violin.'

Kiku rolled his eyes, apparently unimpressed.

'The samisen is better,' he said, and plucked the strings.

* * *

_Kiku,_

_Should we make ready for war then? In the event Spades corrupts?_

_Erzsébet_

* * *

Arthur went to the last fitting for his outfit for the ball, and as he paced around the room, settling boots and belts and coat, readjusting the plumed hat atop his head he passed the full length mirror several times.

'Blue doesn't suit me,' he huffed, and turned on a heel, coat fanning behind him, and how many pleats did they put in that stupid thing? 'I've always been a man for red.'

A man for blood, he thought to himself, scowling at his reflection as he passed.

The reflection scowled back, but it was such a different reflection he had to stop and look.

But the only face looking at him was his own.

* * *

_Erzsébet,_

_No. Put it aside for now. Arthur is trying. That is all we can ask of him._

_Kiku_

* * *

When the storm hit, it came so suddenly Arthur, Kiku and Lili got caught out in it. They'd gone for a walk in the gardens, Lili clutching at Arthur's arm to support herself as they walked, and Kiku had wandered along behind them in his own little world, occasionally adding to the low and gentle conversation.

But it hit them whilst they're by the fountain. Lili screamed, and buried herself in Arthur's chest, the pirate turning to do his best to block the rain.

'Goodness!' she exclaimed, clutching at his shirt as he hurriedly peeled out of his coat to throw it over their heads. 'I wasn't expecting that!'

Kiku ducked under the vague protection of Arthur's coat, laughing a little.

'We're a little far from the palace,' he said, looking at the puddles already forming on the path.

Arthur stepped out from under it, gasping at the force of the rain. His shirt was soaked through already, translucent against his skin, and he started laughing.

'It's fine,' he said, and twirled on one heel. '_God_, I've missed this rain! Come, I'll get y' back inside.'

'You look very happy,' Lili said, and he extended a hand for her to take.

She held onto it with as much of a vice grip as she could, holding Kiku's arm with the other, and Arthur backed up the path, still laughing, and led them both back up to the palace.

Their Kings were there to meet them, and Francis swaddled Lili in the thickest blanket Arthur had ever seen the moment she was through the doors. Shaking himself out not too unlike a wet dog, the Queen of Spades watched as she tried to assure her King that she was fine, that she was just a little wet, and Arthur's coat kept the worst of it off. Kiku assured him that Arthur had brought them back in fine time, and that no one was worse for wear having been out in the rain.

'The walk had been my idea,' Kiku said, placating as always, and Alfred appeared from nowhere with a heavy robe that he draped over Arthur's dripping shoulders. 'All blame should be levelled at me for it. We knew the storm was coming.'

Francis didn't look convinced, but he let the matter drop for now, sweeping Lili out of the room to go and get her dry and warm and stave off any illnesses that leapt on her fragile state to force her to her bed again.

Ludwig thanked Arthur for ignoring his own health for the sake of his fellow Queens, and the Spade blushed a little.

'Oh, thank y', I guess.'

'It's nice to know there's a gentleman in there somewhere,' Alfred teased, elbowing him, and Ludwig nodded.

'That's true enough,' he said. 'It is rare for Royals to look after each other outside of their own. Perhaps you can bring the Solitaire together.'

Arthur made a vague noise that could be an agreement, and then Ludwig was leaving the sunroom, heading back towards the Hearts quarters with Kiku in tow.

* * *

_Lili,_

_I suggest, if you want Arthur to be happy, you just be yourself._

_You are a likeable girl, and if he wants to find happiness in your company, he will do so. Forcing the issue will make it worse. Stop trying so hard._

_Kiku_

* * *

The storm brought with it a stillness that he had only ever felt in the emptiness of the oceans far to the south of the Solitaire. It was the sort of stillness that brought with it exhaustion, and the preparations for his coronation had left him with an ache in his muscles that he'd rarely felt outside of a raid.

It was incredibly rude to fall asleep whilst in the sunroom with Lili one afternoon as the rain hammered on the glass of the walls, but she was just as sleepy as he, and when he started awake, she was dozing herself. For a little while, he watched her dozing and then crossed to the chair to touch her fingers, whispering her name.

'Lili, wake up.'

'Hmm? Oh, Arthur, I'm sorry, did I doze off?'

'Aye, but don't worry 'bout it. So did I.'

'It wasn't very professional of either of us,' she said, and smudged her makeup by rubbing at her eyes.

'It can be our little secret,' he told her with a wink.

* * *

_Kiku,_

_I'm scared that Arthur might try to abdicate. He dozed off in the sunroom earlier, when we were taking tea, and started mumbling about a great clock he found once. I pretended to be asleep when he woke up, but I'm worried. He seemed intent on finding it._

_Lili_

* * *

He dreamt of her sometimes, fleeting memories and empty wishes.

The sunlight in her hair, the curl of her lip as he did something ridiculous that made her have to force a laugh down.

The way her eyes darkened as her leg hooked over his hip and her hands tangled in his hair.

Sometimes, he dreamt of the way she whispered his name, so utterly reverential and perfect.

* * *

_Erzsébet,_

_Do you think Arthur would abdicate, if he had the chance?_

_Lili_

* * *

And he always woke in a cold sweat, panting hard and with his throat tight with tears.

* * *

_Lili,_

_He knows his duty._

_Erzsébet_

* * *

Alfred kept leaving blue roses on Arthur's bedside table, and Arthur kept throwing them in the King's breakfast.

* * *

_Lili,_

_I will speak with him._

_Kiku._

* * *

The morning of the coronation, Arthur woke before dawn, and got up to drag a chair out onto the balcony to look out over the kingdom that would soon be his. Oh, he'd already signed a dozen treaties and supervised plans for the navy, but they were not documents that could be legalized until after his coronation. And even then, his official title would be Queen Consort.

He had no power of his own. No Queen did. They were trouble enough without holding the kingdom in their hands as their own personal plaything. No, it was best to keep them out of the way and out of trouble by giving them purely administrative duties.

The governess of the people, that was how Erzsébet had described it. Utter poppycock, Arthur had scoffed in reply. Not one of them acted as a governess. Even Lili, bound to her bed as she was, had more power than the state would like.

Queen Consort he would become, but Queen Regnant he would be.

His maid came to drag him to a bath at dawn proper, and he'd grown so used to her bursting in on him when he was in so many varying states of undress that he didn't even have it in him to be surprised by her appearance anymore.

'Where's your ring?'

'I lost it,' he said, and the maid clipped him around the ear before moving to rifle through his dresser.

'That is such a lie, My Lady,' she sing-songed, and he scowled at her before moving to drag his chair back inside and shut the doors onto the balcony.

'It is not. I threw it out.'

She unearthed it from under a pair of breeches, and he rolled his eyes, crossed the room to shrug into his robe.

'Arthur,' she said then, all seriousness now, and he frowned at her.

'What.'

'Sit.'

He did so, and scowled at his knees, which she crouched in front of, using them to support herself.

'You will be a good Queen. You are a good man, even if you are a bit of a ponce. I know you think it's going to be hard, and it probably will, but you need to trust in yourself. The kingdom is already yours; this is merely the formality of it. There is nothing that you can do now that you haven't already done.'

She smiled, and shucked his chin.

'I believe that you can do it, and all of the maids in the palace, every member of staff, they all believe you will be a good Queen. You might be a pirate, my Queen, but you've come from the commons. Queens from the commons are always better for the kingdom. They understand the people.'

'I haven't set food on land for years.'

She laughed, and shook her head.

'But you still understand the people, because you _are_ one of the people.'

He frowned, and she got to her feet to finish getting his clothes.

'Chin up, my Queen. Alfred is terribly excited to see you and it wouldn't do to spoil the mood by moping.'

He continued to frown.

* * *

_Arthur,_

_Congratulations on your ascension to the throne of the Spades kingdom! I am glad to have the Solitaire complete once again, and I look forward to all of the years we will spend serving our kingdoms together! I hope you enjoy your gifts from our kingdom, and don't make yourself __too__ ill from it!_

_I must say, though, that I am terribly excited for the ball in your honour! I wonder what everyone's costumes will be, as I only know a few._

_Congratulations, again, and I will have a dance from you, good sir!_

_All the best,_

_Lili_

* * *

The coronation was full of pomp and he didn't have any patience for it, but Alfred was smiling at him during the parade looking at him like he'd never seen anything so interesting, and Arthur glanced at him before turning his attention back out to the public and waving as though he had any clue what he was doing.

It surprised him a little, to be brutally honest, because he hadn't thought that the people knew he'd existed, let alone that he was to be crowned Queen of Spades, but apparently a public appearance was all it took to satisfy them. Yao would tell him later that they'd started a campaign of rumour, spreading hearsay through the kingdom to let them prepare for their new Queen's arrival.

'Besides,' he would say as the clinked their glasses together. 'They all knew Alfred would have a Queen quickly anyway. It's not that much of a surprise. And everyone loves a party. Except for you.'

And Arthur would be just drunk enough to agree with a, 'Except for me.'

The coronation itself was ridiculously pompous, all ermine-trimmed cloaks and ornate crowns that weighed more than his leg, but he did it because he had to, and Alfred was still looking at him like he was fascinating, and he didn't really want to disappoint the boy.

Yao walked him up towards the trio of thrones, a procession and he murmured under his breath that he might as well be walking to the gallows. Yao told him to hush.

Arthur admitted that he didn't listen to the speech, just answered where he needed to, and remained silent the rest, and he recited a carefully-written speech about how he planned to aid the kingdom, serve it to the best of his capacity, and he even made a joke about providing an heir that made Alfred laugh. The older court members attending the coronation, who remembered their predecessors, laughed as well.

Then the crown was on his head, and he became the Queen of Spades.

* * *

_Arthur,_

_Congratulations on your coronation. I am pleased to see it go off with no faults, and I am proud to call you a political and personal friend in the near and distant future both._

_I look forward to working with you._

_Kiku_

* * *

Kiku, Arthur thought, was not too impressed with Arthur's existence right now, but the Queen of Spades, still with the ridiculous crown atop his head, couldn't think what it was that he was supposed to have done to annoy him. He resolved to talk to him later, but couldn't find the time between meet-and-greets and Alfred whispering in his ear to actually do that.

'The best part of marriage is consummation,' Alfred whispered.

'Well, then, y' already 'ave practice in that, don't y'?' Arthur replied, and smiled that vapid, poisonous smile so beloved of court. 'Since it'll be your hand y' consummate with.'

By rights, Alfred had the first dance, and they'd spent a week building up to this, to sweeping across the floor and hissing at each other through forced smiles that if they _dared step on each other's feet_. But it went off without a hitch, they waltzed their way across the floor and came to a rest in the position for a new dance, one that would bring in all four houses, and bowing, the orchestra struck up again.

* * *

_Lili,_

_I think he'll be alright. He is beginning to bond with Alfred, and that will give him the stability he needs to be happy._

_You don't need to worry so much about him._

_Kiku_

* * *

Since the coronation was also his marriage, Arthur was obliged to spend much of the evening hanging off his husband and King's arm. Which suited him just fine, because after one glass of rum too many, the marble flooring was looking a little too uneven for Arthur to navigate by himself, and the weight of the sapphire on his finger was pulling him down enough that he worried he might get dragged to that same uneven floor and find himself unable to pick himself back up again.

'I want t' go t' bed,' he grumbled during a quiet moment.

Alfred smoothed a hand over his hair and told him he could, but later. It was unseemly to leave so early.

'S'early?'

'Yes.'

'Oh.'

For a little while, Arthur mulled this over, and then draped himself over his King's arm, chin on the taller man's shoulder. It pressed them together in ways Alfred probably enjoyed, but Arthur was too busy trying to tug Alfred's head down to whisper in his ear.

'We just got married. They'll think we're goin' t' fuck. Won't mind.'

'As if I'd consummate our marriage when you don't know which way is up.'

Arthur waved a hand somewhere vaguely to his left. 'It's that way. C'mon. I need sleep.'

It took another ten minutes of needling, but eventually Arthur managed to get Alfred to acquiesce and take him to his bed.

'You're such a nuisance,' he said, as he helped Arthur out of the half-dozen layers of his outfit.

'I know,' Arthur replied, and fumbled with the buttons of his waistcoat. 'But y' love me anyway.'

Alfred frowned. 'Now I _know_ you're too drunk. You don't even think I'm me, do you?'

'Ah,' Arthur sighed, 'You're all the same in the end.'

'Alright.'

Once he'd managed to strip the Queen to his undergarments, they started squabbling over Arthur's ring. Arthur, still weighed down by it, seemed determined to take it off, an idea that Alfred was not very keen on, and there was a lot of hand-slapping as they argued. Alfred won out, because he used a lot of big words that managed to shut Arthur up long enough that the King could manhandle his Queen into bed.

'Sleep,' he said, smoothing a hand over Arthur's hair again.

Arthur mumbled a name, sighed heavily and started snoring. Alfred stayed with him a while, just to make sure he wasn't going to be sick or start fitting or God-knows-what else, and then he returned to the party, a little more morose than before. When Yao asked him what the matter was, Alfred shrugged it off, said he was disappointed that Arthur couldn't hold his drink.

'I expected better from a pirate.'

'He's never been good at holding liquor,' Yao agreed, that sage note he always got when he'd had a little too much himself. Everyone apart from Alfred had had a little too much it seemed. 'Not in all the years I've known him.'

* * *

_Francis,_

_Don't let Arthur drink that much again._

_Alfred_

* * *

The morning dawned grey and miserable, and Arthur didn't much want to surface from under the nest of blankets that he'd made himself. He was safely hidden away from the natural light filtering through the gauze curtains drawn across the balcony doors, and that was good; it helped abate the throbbing in his temples and loosened the tightness in his throat until he could plausibly believe he wasn't feeling like Death himself had come to reap his shrivelled little soul.

It was a feeling that didn't last long, admittedly.

Alfred came bursting in of his own accord after Arthur had been awake for perhaps ten minutes, looking entirely too fresh-faced and cheerful for so close to dawn.

'I'm afraid we don't get a honeymoon period!' he said, pulling the drapes open and flinging the doors outward to let in the cool breeze of approaching rain and speckled sunlight of dark clouds. 'We have to get to work bright and early today! There's so much to do! Good God, you look awful.'

'No shit,' Arthur grumbled, and stopped trying to prop himself up against the headboard, choosing instead to drag the sheets over his head and block everything out as best he could.

His ears were ringing, and continued to do so even after Alfred yanked the covers off him. He curled into a ball to try and preserve whatever warmth he could, but he was a cold man with a cold body, and it did nothing to help.

'Come on,' Alfred said, wriggling a hand into the gap of the ball to find Arthur's wrist and start dragging him out of bed. 'We've got things to do!'

'Where's my maid?' Arthur grumbled, and resigned himself to being dragged about.

'Everyone has the day off in celebration. I'm sure we can fend for ourselves for a day.'

'No,' Arthur replied, and went limp in Alfred's grip. 'I don't want to.'

'Spoil-sport. A bath, and then breakfast, and you'll be feeling much better. That's what you get for drinking so much!'

'I wasn't the only one drinkin',' Arthur groused, but got to his feet anyway. There seemed to be no use in fighting Alfred's insistence, so he simply stopped trying.

He was shoved into a bath and allowed to rest there for a while before being made to clean up and dress himself for breakfast.

* * *

_Alfred,_

_Then perhaps your Queen should learn some control, hmm?_

_Best,_

_Francis_

* * *

Lili wasn't at breakfast, which surprised a grand total of no one. Last night's pretty exertions had exhausted everyone, and though Francis had been the one firmly in control of how much Lili drank, the heavier wines of the Hearts had hit her hard, leaving her in a more fragile state than Arthur, who could, at least, handle his wines. Rum, not so much, but wine, yes. So she'd been bound to her bed to sleep off the worst of the headache before planning on joining them for lunch.

'How does it feel to be Queen?' Feliciano asked not five seconds after Arthur sat down.

'About the same as it did before,' Arthur replied with a shrug, helping himself to a spoonful of scrambled egg and some toast. 'Nothing's really changed yet.'

'It will,' Erzsébet assured him. Arthur had no idea how she was on her feet, let alone as fresh-faced as Alfred. 'It changed all of us. Governing is a hard job.'

'I'm sure I'll manage.'

'If you need help,' she said then, 'You can call on us at any time. The other Queens, I mean. We'll be glad to help you with anything you need.'

Arthur nodded, and thanked her, attention going firmly to his breakfast from thereon out.

Later, long after breakfast was done and lunch had been delayed so that Lili would eventually be able to join then, Kiku came to find him in the library. Arthur had been looking for a book to explain some geographical phenomenon to him, some naval thing that went straight over Kiku's head when he tried to explain it to the other Queen.

'I apologise,' Kiku said, as Arthur's mostly-ignorant explanation of windstorms petered out. 'For being so abrupt with you last night. It was unseemly to act so.'

'I just assumed you didn't really want to deal with me drunk,' Arthur said, shrugging. 'It's nothing you need to apologise for.'

'But I do,' Kiku said. 'I worry that you are perhaps unprepared for the role.'

Arthur frowned. 'Unprepared?'

'Yes.'

But no explanation seemed to be forthcoming, which stopped that conversation right there. The library was silent for a good ten minutes, as Arthur continued looking for his book, and Kiku followed him around as though there was nothing else for him to do.

'Lili worried you might try to abdicate.'

Arthur scoffed and slid a book back onto the shelf. 'How can I abdicate when I only got my throne yesterday?'

Kiku shrugged that little shrug of his, and didn't immediately reply. Weighing his words, Arthur supposed, because that was what Kiku did.

'There have been cases of those intended for the throne fleeing before their coronation. It is still technically an abdication, though there is no legal stature.'

Another shrug, and Arthur pulled down another book. 'Well, whatever it is,' he said, shoving the book back and heading off down the aisle with his coat flapping about his knees, 'She's being silly. Why would I abdicate? Alfred is my Pair. My future lies with him.'

Kiku opened his mouth to reply, but got interrupted by Alfred.

'Arthur?'

Arthur hummed and looked over to where Alfred was standing at the end of the aisle,

'I need you to come read over this treaty with Diamonds. I understand all the technical jargon, but you'll understand the naval trading more.'

'Alright, I'll be down in a second.' Arthur turned back to Kiku and said, 'We'll have to continue this later. Make sure you're free after dinner.'

But even as he walked away to follow his King down to the meeting room assigned them today, he knew Kiku would now do everything to avoid continuing the conversation.

* * *

_Erzsébet,_

_Do not make ready for war. Simply be prepared. I have no doubt that if Arthur were presented with a suitable opportunity, he would destroy the entire world. Any man could, of course, but Arthur is not just any man. He is even more unsettling now that there is a ring on his finger._

_Please remain on your guard._

_Kiku_

**++End Chapter++**

**NOTES::**

I found some extra time to write, be grateful.

By extra time I mean I'm procrastinating on an assignment due on Monday whoops, oh well. I may fail university but at least I write fanfiction at a consistently poor level!

The plot should now _hopefully_ start kicking in, so stay tuned for that!

Regarding the use of **samisen**; I always thought it was _shamisen_, but Word threw a fit at me about it, and every time I told it to ignore it, it just red-lined it again, so I changed it. I don't know man, it kept changing language every ten words, I've given up with it.

It's going to be the end of March before I have another chapter ready for you guys, because I have a LOT of deadlines coming up that I've been putting off, so apologies in advance for that.

**++Vince++**


End file.
